Tears From the Moon
by StarryOwlEyes
Summary: AU: After WWIII, its forbidden to love another man or be anything other then 'perfect'. A young student follows in his father's footsteps, but meets a boy that will change his life forever; with blood on the streets, and a nation still at war. Slash R&R
1. Introduction and Epilogue

**1. Introductions and Epilogue**

**Tears From the Moon takes place a year or so before my other fic Center of the Sun. You do not have to read the other to understand this one, but I hope that you do. This is an AU fiction, and will contain violence, and adult themes.**

**-This is set in the futuristic England after World War III, when nations are still trying to recover, and it's very clear the New World Order is a failure. Instead of pioneering through the future—nations have reverted backward. Being different is a sin, and people are killed for less. Just like in Nazi Germany if you were not a 'Perfect' being, you were considered an outcast, and killed in the streets.**

**-In retaliation a group of outcasts are in the process of banding together for a rebellion, which takes place in Center of the Sun, but this story just elaborates on Jem's story. Without giving away too much, Jem's sickness wasn't something he was born with, nor an addiction. You will see where he gets it, and what it is. **

**I, in no way shape or form own any of the characters of this story, they all belong to Cassandra Clare. I am not a professional writer, and your reviews are like gold to me. They mean a lot, and I hope you write them! ^.^**

**Song of the Fic:**

**http:/www. youtube. com/watch?v=RZuj2v1_68k&feature=related**

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><p><strong>Tears From the Moon<strong>

Couldn't sleep so I went out walking

Thinking about you and hearing us talking

And all the things I should have said

Echo now, inside my head

I feel something falling from the sky

I'm so sad I made the angels cry

Tears from the moon

Fall down like rain

I reach for you

I reach in vain

Tears from the moon, tears from the moon...

It just ain't fair, this thing called loving

When ones still there and the other feels nothing

I would have done anything for you

I still love you, baby I adore you

All day I keep from falling apart

But at night when the sky gets dark

Tears from the moon

Fall down like rain

I reach for you

I reach in vain

Stop, stop haunting me

It should be easy

As easy as when you stopped wanting me

Tears from the moon

Fall down like rain

I reach for you

I reach in vain

Tears from the moon

Fall down like rain

But tears from the moon

Can't wash away the pain

Tears from the moon, tears from the moon...

_~Tears from the Moon, by Conjure One_

**Epilogue:**

_**Wudang Mountains, China**_

**F**ull moon rising; rising over misty mountains, where the wind would come in gusts to swirl the thin haze of clouds towards the heavens as if God's fingers brushed the horizon lovingly. She was His greatest creation, and when the gentle breeze, like laughter, would drift through the valleys along a silver river, He could be reminded again of why He loved this world so much.

Despite the destruction and turmoil His nations were in there was still some peace left in humanity. All of the Eastern countries had been untouched by war, and coexisted together with a bond that nations could envy. Where the future had been unkind to the Americas, and the United Kingdom fell divided; China reverted back to ways almost medieval, but still they survived. Food was grown again, on soil so rich that there had been very little need of market value for even the grain traded as much as gold in some countries, and with that it afforded even the smallest of farmers a life of luxury. However, still none lived above any other. All were painted equal in the eye of their

_A sensitive plant in a garden grew, __And the young winds fed it with silver dew,_

_And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light, __And closed them beneath the kisses of night._

_~Percy Bysshe Shelley, "The Sensitive Plant," 1820_

"He is so beautiful, My Lady, a child of the moon." The nursemaid spoke to her Lady who held her infant son, while bare feet moved over polished marble floor in an estate that appeared to be more of the mountain then a home. Everything was built around the world that was there first, and even the floor broke in places to trees to continue their lives—untouched.

"He has his father's hands," The Lady smiled back. Her son, no more than a few hours, shared the coloring of the pale moon, and had come into the world silent. Even then Jian wished only to watch as he met his mother face to face for the first time with eyes the color of snow. In ancient times it had been an omen of goodwill, and this silent child had already been sworn to smile. His temperament would someday make him King should those times ever come again.

"Perhaps then he will be a healer too, M'lady, like his Father?" Jem had been so patient with his first feeding, waiting even then for his mother to rest, and dreaming blissfully of things he could not understand—things he would never remember.

"It would bring great honor if he would follow in his father's footsteps; just so long as they do not lead him far from me." She smiled, touching the brow of her beloved son, and thought of the husband who had gone to fight in a war that was not their own. She knew then and there she would never let Jian go.

James had been born English, but at the turn of the century his family had fled to China in hopes of starting over. "I just wish he could have been here to see the birth of our son." Her words were almost bitter, but cradling the infant she enjoyed the way the breeze swept through the open windows to cool her warm skin; it made her feel home again.

"He will return soon. You shall see." All of the staff held onto hope as if it were all that was left in the world, but it had been months since the man of the household had been heard from; even now they started to wonder. The war was almost over, and some soldiers were returning to their families. However, every night when the telephone rang they held their breath waiting for that one lone voice on the other end to confirm the fear that welled up inside them like a sickness.

The phone broke the silence causing both mother and child to jump at its impulsive tone while laughter followed through the room of the baby's first reflex. "Go get that, Misu, tell them first thing of the good news." With a smile the nursemaid went out into the hall taking all the noise with her as she closed the door, and there they were left alone forming a bond unable to ever be broken.

"Sweet child, painted by the moon. We have wanted you for so long." Her words were gentle with love abound, and sweetly then she kissed his brow while he still didn't make a sound. Her laughter painted her cheeks with a soft rose-colored blush while filling the void of silence, as her amusement with her son could not be contained. "They say that you can feel what I feel, do you little Jem feel as happy as I?"

The infant almost acted as if he would laugh looking up to the beauty that was his mother. He did feel her, and he loved her. Her long ebony hair outlined her soft, round, face, but it was thin slanted eyes that seemed hardly able to contain her smile. He loved her already, and nothing could take away this moment, not even if winter had returned to freeze them all in place. However, when the door would open once again all the warmth of the darling spring was stolen as the Nursemaid held the phone to her chest while her eyes misted with unshed tears.

The sorrow upon her brow could not have been a mistake, and the Lady felt her arms grow stiff as her heart stopped. Jem watched his mother shake her head, and whimpered with pains he could not understand as uncontrolled tears pelted his face.

_"No..."_

The full moon hanging over the horizon suddenly didn't seem as willing to laugh, and her bright pale light dimmed as she too wept into the night.


	2. Fall Down Like Rain

**Chapter 1. Fall Down Like Rain**

Can't close my eyes

They're wide awake

Every hair on my body

has got a thing for this place

Oh empty my heart

I've got to make room for this feeling

so much bigger than me

It couldn't be any more beautiful - I can't take it in.

Weightless in love...unraveling

For all that's to come

and all that's ever been

We're back to the board

with every shade under the sun

Let's make it a good one

It couldn't be any more beautiful I can't take it in

All that I wanted.

All that I ever needed.

All that I wonder.

So beautiful.

~Can't Take It In, from Narnia Soundtrack

**20 years later…**

He missed China already in his steel cage that moved through the country like a snake through the brush, and he felt himself suffocating inside the train. However, in his exciting new adventure Jem couldn't keep his eyes from the countryside long enough to realize how far they had gone. England was so different, even the grass seemed somehow greener. The houses were funny, shaped like little round hats as they were stacked against each other in cities that were far too busy.

The train had been so empty compared to the ones at home, but it was no secret that even after the war was over England suffered through unforgiving times. Jem had been instructed to pack light, and he kept his bag settled behind his calves while the cart moved along the track. One hand held his papers, while the other rolled the strand of jade prayer beads his mother had given him, and he worried them between his frail fingers. Every time a figure would pass beside his door he would look up with nervous eyes, afraid for it all to be pulled from him at any moment. Jem had wanted this his entire life, to see the land his father loved dearly, and follow in his footsteps no matter how much his mother protested. Yet, even she knew she could not contain him, no one could hold the moon in one place.

Suddenly, men raced by his door with rifles in hand, and Jem felt his breath catch in his chest until they passed. Slowly, he eased back into his seat when the shadows of the soldiers were long gone, and he knew he would simply have to learn to accept the armed guards were there as protection. However, he was certain he could never understand a place where guns held such power over people. Jem hated that they were needed at all, and along the way wondered what was so horrid about this nation that made the people so unhappy. Had the war been that unkind? So far the country had been beautiful, but just when his silver eyes started to settle again on the small town outside of his next stop he thought he heard the train put on its breaks, but soon realized the horrid sound came from outside.

The city was like any other he had with streets carved from stone, and the homes simple. All of the pictures of London had all been the same, but nothing prepared him for this. Little cottages along a row held beautiful window boxes full of vibrant flowers that had been blooming all summer, lined the streets that seemed fairly well kept. They seemed about the same size, and Jem wondered of the lives within. Cars were parked along the sidewalks, and the further they went into the city the nicer they got. However, the deeper he went into London the further he felt himself from China as the taller buildings started to loom, and many faces rushing to their next stop passed in such a blur. Outside, it seemed so normal, but there was very little natural for what came next.

A fire was burning the inside of what looked like to be a patrol car until the steel was nothing but a skeleton in the streets, and uniformed men with guns drawn fired blindly into a crowd. Jem at first thought them to simply be controlling what seemed to be one of the riots he had heard so much about, but when he watched the face of a young man explode with one shot he gasped. As the train went further into the city bodies were crumpled on the ground, and Jem was horrified that there was as many women there as there was men—children too. They seemed so different, each dead body, except they all seemed to be wearing something red.

The knock that came at the door caused him to jump in his seat. His frail fingers stifled a cry, and the man at the door slid back the track. He looked upon the foreigner with a frown, and worried of what kind of judgment Jem was already casting on his homeland. Other than the riots, lives were lived normal. One simply had to remember what side to stay on.

"It's best you don't watch, Mr. Carstairs." The uniformed guard was pleasant to the eye with a kind face, but Jem felt himself struggling to keep his gaze. "I just wanted to inform you of your stop, and reassure you that you are safe." Jem couldn't speak, but he wanted to thank the man. He wanted to ask questions that were not allowed to be asked, but he couldn't find his voice.

When the train pulled into the station, Jem felt himself growing sick from the motion. He was still coming to terms with what happened back there in the streets, and felt his stomach tighten around the light lunch that was still unsettled. When he finally made it to the platform, he wanted to fall to his knees as his legs felt so heavy. Like a sickness, he couldn't take his eyes from where the black smoke rose in the distance. He suddenly wished he could stay on the train, and ride it all the way back to the shore where he would hire a boat to take him home. What had he been thinking?

Holding his little suitcase to his chest, Jem felt his arms squeeze around it as shots fired in the distance, and he started to search the faces around him. No one cared. Not a single person cared that people were dying on the other side of the tracks. He wanted to scream, shake that look of everyday boredom from their features, but deep down he knew they wouldn't wake up. This was every day life here, and what his mother had warned him about.

A hand fell heavy on his shoulder with fingers long yet kind, and it caused him to jump with a little gasp as he inhaled sharply in surprise. Jem turned to look so fast to who held him, that the sun glinted in a fierce line through his hair, and nearly enchanted the man holding him-nearly. Jem had never been a very tall youth, and it didn't surprise him to find the chest of the other when he was searching for eyes. Slowly, he tipped his head back to take in the youthful frame, and was stunned silent.

The first thing he noticed besides the other's height was the beautiful blue the color of his eyes were. They were as blue as the sky, but as fierce as sapphires, and a perfect contrast with his ebony black hair that was combed over his brow. His face was thin, and despite his clean-shaven face the stranger looked rough around the edges. He held his lips dangerously together, and his jaw set tight. His clothes were a mix of vintage fashion, that only bad boys could ever pull off, and leather. His jeans tightly fitted with a plain white t-shirt beneath a well-worn leather jacket, made his heart pound, and reminded Jem of modern day James Dean, with Mr. Darcy's quizzical brow. He looked the sort that got into fights in alleys, and Jem would wager he was tattooed somewhere beneath all that leather. He was young, but the lines around his eyes spoke of growing up too soon. However, the cigarette that was drawn between his lips made him look like a fool even if the smoke cast eerily beautiful shadows over his eyes.

"You Jean?" The stranger asked, and somewhere Jem prayed this wasn't the student who was going to take him to the University. He would rather walk.

"Jian." Jem corrected him, looking for any sort of badge or ID to confirm the other man's identity. They were supposed to send another student, not James Dean. Regardless, the platform was starting to empty, and they were suddenly alone. "Are you, Mr. Herondale?" Jem fumbled for the paper that had been the only instructions they had given him.

"Gin?" The youth cracked his lips in a small cat like smirk, and Jem could tell he was biting back laughter, "Like the drink?" His thin fingers came to remove the cigarette from his lips, taking a long drag before the smoke spilled from his lips like water. Jem wrinkled his nose in disgust and fanned his face to break apart the fog.

"No..Ji-an, James if you can't say it." He coughed once to clear his lungs, and gave the man a look that almost made Will laugh. He was defiantly a med student, only they cared.

"Will." The stranger said with a flick of his fingers to propel the stale cigarette, as it burnt slowly to its death as it hit the ground. "Come on." Will took hold of Jem's suitcase and started to lead them through the crowd. Jem stood silent at first, but quickly moved to follow in the taller man's wake.

"Are you here to pick me up then?" Jem called out fighting through the crowd with his polite manners, while William barreled through with his shoulders. Jem could hardly keep up with William's long strides, and called out after him, "Are we going to the university? Is it very far?" Jem was exhausted, and haunted by the events on the train. He was more then willing to rest.

Will wouldn't turn to answer him, but furrowed his brow at how ignorant the question was. Why else would he be carrying his bag, and leading him from the train? This boy was young, but he came from something important. He simply hoped Jem wasn't another student to sail through school with his parents money. He seemed so eager. Will noticed how a few faces turned to give Jem a second glance as they passed, and wondered if the white haired youth even noticed. Already strangers were labeling him as different, and judging him by what secretly Will found a look over his shoulder he watched Jem smile with warm greetings to those who openly stared, and Will wanted to roll his eyes. This boy was so naive it almost hurt his chest, but the way the sunlight painted him gold caused Will to watch him for a moment.

An elderly lady who touched his smile, while complimenting his Jade bracelet, had stopped Jem. Her hair was as white as his, but reminded Will of cotton. Her eyes were kind, slanted like Jem's, and she spoke to him in a language Will didn't understand. Her face was alive with the kindness Jem was showing her, and he could almost feel their kindred spirits.

Standing at the cross of the sidewalks, Will stopped long enough to let Jem catch up, and would light another cigarette as the white haired youth panted through his forgiveness. His pale face was painted with life, as his cheeks were rosy from the brisk walk, and the excitement still alive in his eyes.

"There are so many people here," Jem smiled before he offered to carry his own suitcase, and wondered if Will was angry. He could see the annoyance on his face by the hard lines around his mouth, and it made the smile fade from his face.

"You shouldn't talk to many strangers as weird looking as you are." Will exhaled, and the smoke passed his lips in a slow manner. He handed Jem his suitcase, and tried to ignore the annoyed, angry, and hurt look that was returned.

"At home I'm considered beautiful. I'm cherished because I'm different. It is not weird." Will could tell he had offended Jem, and almost laughed. He thought of every other Chinese man he had ever met, and how they had all resembled the same stereotype; ink black hair, and round almond eyes. Yet, when he watched Jem tuck his hair behind his ear he could almost hear the insecurities in the lull of his voice, "It's just a birth defect." He spoke quietly, "I was born this way." Jem looked up just in time to see a tall man with sparkling spikes as hair that glittered in the sunlight, that were dyed different colors, but no one paid any attention to him. Was he weird too? No one stared at that man like they were his own image, and Jem felt the weight of their gazes like anchors, "Can we just go? Please."

Will listened to the annoyance and hurt in Jem's forced manners, and felt strangely guilty when he got another good look at the white haired man. He really was beautiful, and it would not be hard to be intoxicated by his presence. However, he had a reputation to uphold, and he wasn't about to break it for anyone.

They walked a little further in silence, Jem with his suitcase, and Will smoking his cigarette. It wouldn't be until they exited the train station into the almost empty streets, and Will made his way over to an old rusty motorbike that was older then both of them combined did start his protest.

"Where is your car?" He asked looking the old motorbike over with a look of terror, and when Will straddled the seat of the old Vintage Royal Endield all the color from his face paled. "This is not funny." He clutched the suitcase again to his chest while Will set back on the seat, "I am not getting on that rusty thing."

"You chicken?" Will slurred, pulling the blunt of his smoke between his fingers to take the final drag, "She's from World War II, Jin." As if history somehow made it better, "She doesn't take much gas, and is sturdier then she looks." He could tell by how pale his companion was that it didn't make it any easier, but at least he could see it was fear crippling him-not conceit. "Come on." Will took his suitcase up, and strapped it to the back. He opened the cargo latch, and pulled out a dusty helmet. Jem wondered if it had ever been worn since the original owner. Was it supposed to make him feel better? It would hardly cover his head at all, and Jem was pretty sure it would shatter it was so old. Even the leather straps smelled musty, and cried out in threats of breaking. "Come on, it's this or walking through that." Will motioned where the black smoke rose over the building tops, and the distant guns sang out in bursts.

With a deep breath, Jem climbed behind Will, to sit where he imagined an English soldier once did in the war against Nazi Germany, and suddenly Will was right. The history did make it better. However, when Will fired the engine, and a cloud of black smoke filled his lungs. Jem started choking, and nearly fell off the back when they burst into the street. He clung to William's back, trembled like a leaf in the wind, and kept his eyes squeezed shut the entire time.

Will could almost hear the little whispers of prayers every time they stopped at the light, and if it was in his character he would have laughed. Instead he kept quiet while the white haired, white knuckled youth prayed for their destination.

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><p><strong>AN:**

**So there it is, if you have any questions please feel free to ask, and reviews are gold to me. Please do it. It keeps me going.**

**I am so nervous to post this, so please be kind, but honest.**

**Thanks and have a wonderful day!**


	3. The Silver Coloured Road

**Chapter 2. The Silver Coloured Road**

_Made of crystals in the sand, __If you want to taste you can_

_In the city where the people are alone, __She held lightning in her hands_

_She's been cornered by the man, __I pretend no answering riot_

_As we hid it on the hill, we ran_

_Fuel a mission, __With the passion_

_Fighting still, we ran_

_Do you know the way, __To the silver coloured road_

_By the city that's run dry_

_~Crystal Visions, The Big Pink_

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><p><strong>N<strong>othing was said as the streets passed, but Jem found it hard to even open his eyes. The bike moved through the rush with such speed that it surprised him at how smooth the journey had been. The roar of the motor made him jump each time William revved the engine, and Jem could almost swear he did it on purpose simply to feel him tremble against his back. His heart was pounding in his chest, but when he felt the world passing ease he knew his stop was soon.

"You are going to miss it all with your eyes closed like that." Will smirked as he shut off the bike to ease it into the parking space, and Jem caught his gaze through the mirrors.

"I do not think my eyes open will be any different then closed. You go so fast." Jem set back on the bike, rubbing his wrists to relieve the tension there from the death grip he kept on Will's Jacket. The helmet was too big, and covered most of Jem's blush that was still hard to miss. Finally, when Jem's fingers started to recover from their blood loss he tipped the helmet from his white hair, "I thank you kindly for taking the trouble-"

"Save it," Will interrupted him, and traded the suitcase for the helm, "You need to check in." He turned his back on the youth to reseat himself over the leather. Jem felt his chest tighten with nerves. Was this it? He was just going to drop him off, and leave? There were so many students with their families moving in and out of the campus he felt at any moment he would drown in the current. Where was his building? Where did he go?

Jem found himself suddenly very aware at how alone he was standing in the empty parking space watching Will leave, but he would not be a burden any longer. He could do this. His mother had begged him to stay, and her support was limited. However, he knew a part of her would forever belong here too. He had to prove to her he was able. He wanted to return to her a doctor like his father, and honor their good name. In this he found strength to start this adventure, and pushed his steps forward to move along side the stream of students.

The paths through the University twisted like a stone snake, and Jem was thankful for the old tall trees that seemed just as important as the buildings that held the classrooms. They were a nice reminder of home, and made this concrete jungle feel more real. His heart was pounding in his chest as his smile finally found his lips again when the dorms came into view. His ribs tightened around his heart with the excitement that drummed to his ears, and he was ready to belong. There was so much to see! So much to do! However, he was tired, and the thought of finding his bed pressed him along. Finally, he searched his breast pocket for the paper that had his building's name, and searched for the hall.

"You look lost," A sweet voice that sounded like bells chimed behind him, and Jem turned with a pathetic apology hanging baited on his lips. The girl before him was beautiful in that bookkeeper way with mouse brown hair, and thick-rimmed glasses that perched on her nose. Her cheeks were as flushed as his to be in the sun, and her attire was plain. She wore a name badge that made Jem realize that she must have been part of the student support, but she couldn't be too much older then he. Finally, he straightened his stance, and spoke.

"I am," He smiled proudly, and it was the first thing Tessa noticed of his beauty. He had the sort of smile that met his eyes, and it was easy to ease into her own. "I am looking for," Jem propped the paper beneath his nose to read, "The Griffin House." He admitted finally, having stumbled over the English a little, and it made Tessa giggle lightly. However, she looked at him through a sly questioning glare, and wondered of the truths that he seemed to miss.

"House Griffin? My…" Her eyes swept over him as if confused. He seemed normal enough, but it was very clear that particular set of dorms was reserved for the privileged. Everything about this youth spoke of humble belongings save for the jade bracelet he wore; she could wager it had been expensive. Other then his obvious accent, and his freak coloring—he wasn't much different. His clothes smelled like stale cigarettes, and he looked weather worn. _Will. _Tessa was not impressed, but of all she knew never to judge a book at first glance. "May I see your paper?" Jem happily passed it to her, and while she was skimming the paperwork his silver eyes shifted again around the campus.

The students were no longer looking at him, but watching as men in all black passed. Their fine suited figures carried objects that appeared to be for an art studio of sorts, but the only sort of arts this school possessed was that of the Political variety—he had checked. They also seemed to be sheltering a boy his age in between them who seemed very annoyed to even be there.

"Well…" Tessa stated plainly, looking over her glasses at him. "I'll have the help carry your bags up. My name is Tessa Gray, and I'm a second year. You are on my floor." She extended her hand, and Jem took it gently. He gave his name in the sort of sweet way that made Tessa's heart warm, and already she found herself wanting to question him all over again.

"I will not need service to get my bag," He finally said with a small blush creeping up over his skin, and thumbed the handle of the suitcase between them, "I only have one." Before Tessa could argue, Jem was quick to continue. "I have money for what I may need." A privilege he knew, and he didn't mean to flaunt it. However, he could feel the judgment there in her gaze, but did not think poorly of her. He did not think poorly of anyone without just cause. His mother warned him of how things were very different here, but in truth even she didn't understand how severe their two countries were different.

"Oh," She mouthed slightly ashamed at the way she had assumed much of his character, but would finally just smile, "Then come along. I'll show you to your room."

They walked for the better part of the journey behind the men with the dark suits, and both he and Tessa were fascinated by the way they appeared to flock around a boy with hair as black as Will's. His eyes were the same color as well, but they carried such sadness where William's had been nothing but trouble—Jem was sure of it. It was part of his appeal he was sure.

"Looks like you'll be sharing the bathroom with the young Lord." She whispered when the elevator doors closed to see them up to his suite, and Jem felt his nerves shake him. He did not feel worthy sharing even the air with any of titled privileged, but when Tessa reached his door it was confirmed. The men in black suits stood outside the door down the hall form him as if guarding a King. The look on their faces spoke of how they were prepared to stand there all night.

"It is very humble of him to be attending the University, and staying in the hall?" Jem asked looking around the all white room as if he had been slapped in the face. The stark white walls matched the white tile, and the bed without sheets appeared to be something straight from the type of rooms they kept the insane. The look on his face made Tessa smirk—there was a spoiled brat beneath him after all.

"Trust me, Lightwood is only staying here while his loft in the city is being renovated I'm sure. He is not humble, and it seems you are not either." She reached out to touch his shoulder as if to shake him from his shocked state, and Jem turned to her with what she thought was horror in his eyes before he crossed to the other side of the room.

"There is only one window?" The question made Tessa raise her brow in a series of her own, and she wasn't certain how to answer. "It does not open either." He frowned then, and her heart sank with his as she watched him struggle with the latch. He was going to stay in this prison? He couldn't stay here!

"You have money right? Those with money can turn this into whatever they want. All it needs is a few pictures, and maybe a rug. You will have to wait until tomorrow to go to the market, but trust me you won't spend much time here." Jem was suddenly very embarrassed for the way he acted, and swallowed down his sorrow. It was not the room that upset him, but that he was so closed away from the natural world outside.

"Thank you for showing me—you are right, it will suit me just fine." He smiled meekly, and listened to her go on about the rules. Classes wouldn't start until Monday, and that would give Jem the entire weekend to fill this space with anything to break the constant, caging, white. Tessa continued to try and ease him into his life in the dorms, but he didn't listen. He couldn't get over how homesick he was suddenly. Finally, when Tessa left he sank onto the edge of the bare mattress, and ran a hand through his hair before picking up the small pamphlet that gave the meal period. He was not far from one, and if he hurried to unpack he could have a chance to wash up before dinner. A good meal, and a walk around campus would chase away his heartache. He really could do this on his own…couldn't he?

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><p><strong>AN: I didn't have Ky Beta this one, she's graduating this weekend, and I didn't want to be a pest. Really its so small how many mistakes can one person make? Plus. Fanfiction, don't judge too harshly. I loathe writing set up chapters, because I'm SOOOOO eager to get to the story, but if you followed Center of the Sun then you'll understand how important they are. So bare with me as things are a bit slow?**

**I'm really glad you liked Will so far, but truuuuuuuuuuuust me there is SOOOOOO much more to him. His theme song in this is The Wolf by Fever Ray. It's on the Red Riding Hood soundtrack…go listen. Soooo hot. He's my Judas. All cute and in brown now, but he is daaaaaaaaark. :growls: Big Bad Wolf v. Sweet Little Jem. If you guys could just see this story in my head right now, you would want me to hurry too.**

Eyes black, big paws and

Its poison and

Its blood

And big fire, big burn

Into the ashes

And no return

We took you right

From your mother's home

Our temple, your tomb

Can be your pick

Not pawned

The poison is blood

**Reviews get updates faster, because they keep my damn Gemini mind going.**

**Have a great week!**


	4. The Wolf

**A thank you to Ky for Beta and helping me thrive in writing this, and Lallie_O for demanding this chapter. They are awesome! **

**CC owns characters.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3. The Wolf<strong>

Eyes black, big paws and

Its poison and

Its blood

And big fire, big burn

Into the ashes

And no return

We took you out

From your mother's womb

Our temple, your tomb

Can be your pick

Not pawned

The poison is blood

~The Wolf by Fever Ray

**H**e was a wolf, with eyes as blue as the sky, and hair as black as night. His heart was living in the reality of the divine, and his body was given to the darkness. William, walked a thin line between the right, and wrong. His life as a student had been sacrificed for a short high long before it could be prevented. The drug had become part of it.

"Do you want to feel good, boy?" She had purred against him, her ripe round breasts like a beacon in the night flashing beneath the thin fabric of her shirt, and drawing him into her arms. Indestructible, the music pounded through the club, and the bodies all swelled together in a passionate rage. This was the place where dreams were made, and the birthplace of true nightmares. He loved it here. He loved it because he felt that he belonged here—no matter how much the need for his quick fix pulled him under.

William lived two lives; one above the surface in the university where his pallet of brown made him appear to be a civil being and the other in the dirty alleys of the streets that swept so many beneath their concrete tides. Here, he wore black on black to play the part of an eerie stranger whose cold icy glare was as deadly as his devil's grin. He wore his hair combed back over one brow, and the ends curled at the base of his neck. He was the image of the perfect enemy, who behind his careless nature was in fact a natural born destroyer; his alter ego. He could slip into this role like pulling on a mask, and the power that came with it was exhilarating.

"Addiction is a sin, William." The woman purred again with the needle of their drug, and her lips pulled on his own. She could feel his hardened state, and with it came her own quickened pulse. This was what life was about, and when they devoured each other in the back allies of London's city streets she became his prey.

"So is this." He purred, a dangerous low growl that mirrored the smoke that spilled from his lips as it burned the back of his throat. As the woman's long nails scraped away at his shoulders, and freed his milky flesh from beneath the heavy black fabric he arched his back. Between her fingers the little glass vial waited patiently with the deep red contents almost as taunting to his skin as her naked body against him.

"Do you want it?" She asked between their passionate cries, and slowly started to descend upon closed his eyes with a nod, and threw his head back to beg her. The prick of the needle only hurt for a few seconds before the drug spilled into his bloodstream, and caused him to cry out. It took hold of him like the pleasure that came with this deadly woman, and he begged for release. She was a spider, and he was caught.

"So then tell me," The woman continued; her body moving over him like a lone cowgirl ready to ride, lost in the moment, "When the sun comes up, don't you have classes to attend?" She smirked, and her cherry painted lipstick had bled onto her teeth. It was strangely sobering to Will, and for the first time in the pale pink light of the dawning morning, he had gotten a good look at this woman. Her hair was a ratted mess, and her skin seemed reflective of the drugs she was addicted to; it pooled in certain places with an eerie yellow tint. He suddenly felt sick.

"I do." Will arched his back with the pleasure that was rocketing over his body, but when his head fell back against the stone street he suddenly found the changing reflection of the night sky in the early morning light far more interesting. It was beautiful, the way the pale blue blushed warmer like the boy from yesterday—Gin.

"His eye is on the prize." The alley cat whispered in his ear while sparks shot between them as their bodies found the rapture, and the new day dawning.

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><p><strong>J<strong>em felt himself under the heavy impression of every eye as if he were being watched beneath the thick glass of a fish bowl. His heart pounded like a rabbits against his chest as he carefully dodged every judgmental gaze, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

The classroom was full when he first got there, leaving him with a seat in the front, and the entire class was able to openly stare. He clutched his books to his chest, and scurried to take his seat. At home classrooms were never this large, and even lecture halls like this were intimate—inviting. Here, he was seated along with almost sixty other people, and how could he hide? He felt like crying,but when the door opened suddenly the air grew cold. His heart stilled in his chest, and his lips parted for a careful intake of breath.

"_Bonjour, mesétudiants," _The French sounded as the beautiful pale lips that spoke them, and the tall man that pulled from the dark hallway enchanted Jem. He had hair of raven black that spilled down his back, and outlined a well defined almost eerily perfect face. His eyes were such a dark color they appeared as dark as his hair, and the contrast of his porcelain white skin made Jem's heart race. The man was tall, elegantly so, with broad shoulders, and a slender waist. His attire held sophistication well beyond his years, but were still somehow timeless. Jem was reminded of a painting pressed from the Victorian era with such flawless detail even the silver buttons of his waistcoat were polished. Under the black was a white pressed shirt that had a high collar that was decorated with a crimson ascot tied around his throat. He was so beautiful he hardly seemed real, but what made Jem marvel most was how kind his smile was. The age lines around his eyes gave numbers of somewhere in his late thirties, but simply the way he carried himself spoke of a well defined educated mind that could have been a thousand years old. Beautiful, long, fingers curled over the ruby tip of his walking cane, and the limp that carried the man over the floor only added to Jem's intrigue.

The classroom didn't say much in return. Their eyes skimmed over him, half afraid of such a menacing looking man. But rumor had it if you didn't pass Jean-Claude's class your first year, you were not cut out for the rest of the program. Most students had to retake his course twice before passing, and you were only given a handful of chances before the University accepted that as your failure. Times were hard, and with so little student financing to go around, they were careful with their selections. Jem was thankful this wasn't something he had to worry over, but he was also content to never express such luxury.

Introductions were played like cards across the room, as one by one they played their hand; some with gambling eyes, and others with hardly a second glance. Jem held the flush, for his face got red, and his name being discovered somehow made him feel he had given part of his soul. Now, he would not only be the one with the freakish hair, but as well as the strange name. However, the tall man now standing on the small platform gave Jem a reassuring smile, and was quick to distract with his own name.

"My name Doctor Jean-Claudede Luc Saint-Laurence, but you may simply refer to me as Professor, and when you pass this class…Jean-Luc." He spoke with a coy smile hidden something behind dark eyes, and they made Jem shiver. It was clear he was French, and finely so—he even dressed the part. His voice was so thickly accented with the nations sound structure that Jem felt compelled to ask. He wanted to know of his France just as much as the class. It was comforting to know he was not the only foreigner on English soil, but Jean-Luc's words quickly brought him back down from his mindless daydream. "You are in _Le corps humain…" _Jean-Luc turned from the classroom to pen 'The Human Body' beautifully across the board, and Jem couldn't be more pleased knowing this man would lecture the subject. "If you would please take out your books and turn to the two hundredth page. We-" The students in the room started to shuffle about, but when the door opened their eyes shifted instantly to the figure moving through it like a ghost.

William walked with his hands in his pockets and the collar of his coat up over his ears in a poor attempt at hiding his face. He would slink into the classroom like a cat along a fence, and took the only empty seat—beside Jem. The first thing Jem noticed was how pale Will was, and how blue his lips appeared. Thick black lines from his lack of sleep outlined his eyes, and his hair was a mess atop his head. He smelled like those stale cigarettes mixed with cold iron, and something a little more exotic; something…Jem couldn't find the right word for.

_Sex_

"Young Master Herondale." Jean-Luc turned the pen for the board over on his hand as he placed an elegantly decorated wrist against his hip, "What a pleasure to grace us with your presence." Will shot him a dark look, annoyed.

"Forgive me, Professor. I must have lost track of time." His voice sounded so dry on his lips, strained in many ways. However, the sound of it pulled on Jem's heart still, and he offered the misbegotten youth a small smile that Will didn't return. "It will not happen again."

Closer now, Jem could make out stains on Will's shirt; deep crimson ones that almost looked black. There were marks all over his neck—deep ugly ones, and the whites in his eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep.

"It better not, William." Jem didn't realize how close Jean-Luc was standing, until he felt the air turn colder there in his shadow, but it was his voice that made Jem feel frozen. "This is your last chance at passing this class."

Jem looked around, and was surprised no one else seemed to care as much as he. The rest of their class was far too busy on their phones, or chatting quietly amongst themselves.

When the class continued on, the lecture started right away with questions all left unanswered by the rest, but Jem knew every one. He quietly and shyly would raise his hand to give the correct answer until finally Will would snort harshly, causing a flush to fill Jem's face, and he would lower his hand. He was very aware of the eyes on him them, and felt very much the fool. The room fell silent as Jean-Luc waited for his answer, and it would be Will's turn to offer the correct one. This only made Jem's face darken further.

"Thank you Master Herondale, perhaps the third time is as you say…the charm?" Jean-Luc went back to his lecture, and while Jem wanted to crawl under his desk he leaned over to Will.

"Is it not the correct procedure to give an answer when you know it?" He asked Will in a whisper; too annoyed to cower at the glare that followed his question. Will sat up in his seat and pressed an arm over the surface to counter Jem's little act of bravery.

"Not when you know every one of them." This close to Will made Jem's heart stop, and the sudden confliction in his William's beautiful blue eyes made it start again. He hadn't been privileged to them before—not this close, and even now he felt they were distant. His eyes reminded him of winter, and he swore that behind the pale blue irises there the lightest hint of falling snow. Over and over in his mind, Jem thought of things to say back; of retorts that sounded witty or smart. Yet, all he could concentrate on was the blood on Will's shirt, and was thankful for the distraction. "Its how you make enemies Gin. People don't like know-it-alls."

Jem sat back in his seat as his arms folded over his chest, and when Jean-Luc asked another question he answered it with pride.

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><p><strong>Good? Bad?<strong>

**P.s. Jean-Luc (sometimes Jean-Claude) is an original of mine I was super nervous to post, so be kind on him. He's old. Want more of his story? Find me on Twitter at Starryowleyes.**


	5. They Insulted My Pride

**Tears From the Moon**

**Chapter 4. They Insulted My Pride**

He fumbles at your Soul  
>As Players at the Keys<br>Before they drop full Music on -  
>He stuns you by degrees -<br>Prepares your brittle Nature  
>For the Ethereal Blow<br>By fainter Hammers - further heard -  
>Then nearer - Then so slow<br>Your Breath has time to straighten -  
>Your Brain - to bubble Cool -<br>Deals - One - imperial - Thunderbolt -  
>That scalps your naked Soul -<p>

When Winds take Forests in the Paws -  
>The Universe - is still -<p>

~He Fumbles At Your Soul by Emily Dickinson

**"T**hink of it as a clock, beating in rhythm with the world, but keeping at pace with our lives. Our hearts push blood much the same. From one point to another it carries our life force if you will…" Jean-Luc was in mid lecture by the time Jem realized he was hardly listening. Half way through the first week he knew he could test out, but listening to his professor speak of the way a heart should beat made his own burn inside his chest. It was beautiful watching him relaxed now in clothes that were still fitting to his figure, but with freedom now to move around the classroom without heavy coats weighing him down. It was enchanting really, but it was his voice that pulled Jem in. He loved the accent, the way his words melted on the edge of his lips in a way that only the French could, and how his kind eyes lit up when he got excited about a certain segment in his lecture. He was passionate about his profession, and compared to all the other professors he was one of the few that still loved his job.

Jem got in the habit of getting there a bit early, and was happy to take the seat at the front. It put him the closest to his professor, and it made him feel protected. Jean-Luc would bring a clay kettle that balanced on the edge of his cane with tea so hot that the steam rose from it like phantoms. He would pour them both a cup that reminded Jem of home, and enjoyed the morning talk while laughter filling the room until the students started to trickle in. One by one, Jem waited for William to pass through the doors as if he waited on air to breathe, and finally when the dark haired boy passed through the doors Jem would glance to the open seat beside him. Everyday, Will wouldn't take it—no one would, but every day Jem wished they would.

William hadn't been late since his first class, but he hardly kept close to Jem. He instead clung to the corners like a spider hiding on the last row, and half listening as his eyes carried over the room. He seemed on edge, and every day it was the same routine. He would hide in the midst of the dark aisle, and wait to crack one more joke in Jem's direction.

Jean-Luc's voice started to ease into his lecture as if he were talking to his reflection; he felt at ease, but William could hardly listen. Too many voices around him spoke of the dawning weekend, and where the parties were going to be. He heard rumors of an underground show in the night club beneath the graveyard. He listened to a few boys before him speak of the girl they banged the night before, and of the way she cleaned their cocks afterward. However, when their words shifted to the professor, and the rumors flying about he and the white haired boy, William lifted his face from his chin to listen.

"I heard he gets the test answers for blow-jobs, and that's why he finishes so fast." Jem was always the first to finish a quiz, and leaves without so much as a second glance over his shoulder as if he did not worry at all. He was brilliant, why didn't anyone see this? Rage curled William's fingers as he wanted to clock the fool into submission, but the boy continued, "I bet he's infected that's what makes his hair white." Those words were enough to have Jem killed on the streets, and Will tensed in preparation to tear out this ass's heart.

"Master Herondale," Jean-Luc's voice broke the silence, and with it his calm. "I will put you with Mr. Carstairs." Jem looked horrified while William wondered when he had started assigning partners for their latest project. Was this a trick? Jem almost looked hurt at the professor, but Jean-Luc kept his level eyes on Will who was now becoming the brunt of every joke. He knew well what he was doing, and no doubt Jean-Luc had his reasons.

"Maybe he'll give you a blowjob to sit beside him." They snickered in arrogant whispers, and without second thought Will left his seat to tackle the jock sending them both crashing into the aisle. His half leather bound hands wrapped around the boy's neck while crushing his larynx with his thumbs.

"Take it back!" William was rough, and through the years pushing through school on his own—you learned to survive. He was street-smart, but it seemed the hard lines of his exterior knew well enough how to bring a man down. With his thumb pressed to the jock's neck it was closing off the air just in the right place to render him useless.

The room went silent save for Jem's little gasp as he started to stand. His heart pounded watching Will, but what could he do? He was but a single small star in the ever-black night that was William Herondale, and no body ever got in his way. Jem only managed a small set of steps before he felt the hand of his Professor touch his shoulder, and his attention turned on how cold Jean-Luc's fingers were. They felt like ice, frigid, and frozen, and broke him from his natural reaction. Before, Jem could pull away Jean-Luc was moving in the direction of the fight, until all he could see was his long ebon strands as he disappeared around the speculators.

Everything was happening so fast that Jem was hardly given time to think, much less notice that Jean-Luc moved without his cane. Staring at it now perched against the Professor's desk it seemed so surreal. The ruby red flashed for a moment as if held a heart beat of its own, and Jem felt compelled to take it to its Master.

The end of the fight broke through his thoughts, and Jem followed William with his eyes as both he and the jock were escorted to the hall. His heart jumped in his chest when he felt the weight of the entire classroom's eyes on him as if accusing him of starting the brawl. His fingers tightened around Jean-Luc's cane, and he met the Professor at the door to deliver it.

"Are you going to fail him?" Jem asked breathless as he met the dark eyes of the Frenchman with worry, and tried to peer around Jean-Luc into the hall where William's figure was slowly departing. The navy black of Jean's eyes were torment because Jem could not read them. He couldn't tell what the Professor was thinking, or judge the fate of those who dare interrupt his lecture; but he wanted to. He worried over William so much that often it kept him up at night, and he tried to fight with reason as to why?

Jean-Luc looked over Jem, and worried of the way he held his hands so tightly over the ruby of his walking stick. He could even wager that if he could feel the heart pulsing beneath his chest it would be racing, but from what? Fear? Resentment? In all his years he would never understand that of the innocent, but the small glance to William gave it all away.

"I would not fail him, but" Jean-Luc took to the cane, and let is stance fall into it, "I think it would be very wise for everyone to take into account that I will not put up with disturbances of any childish nature." He looked out over the class, and dismissed them. He was in far too much pain to continue, but the only indication of such came with his limp; and how his knuckles were white holding onto the cane.

Jem without hesitation gathered his things, and made way for the open door. The hall was empty save for a few straggling students between classes, but when he ventured into the courtyard his silver eyes scanned for any sign of Will. They were appointed partners in the group project that was their final grade, and he wasn't about to allow him to get away that easy. It would be what made or broke them; and Jem wasn't going to let William fail. He had made it his personal goal to keep Will in line, and he wasn't about to let him throw it away now. He didn't worry over his own grade, knowing well he could carry the project just fine on his own, but it was clear no matter how strong Will made himself appear—he was lost.

"What was that about?" Jem spoke all at once when he breathlessly caught up to Will who had taken refuge under one of the large oaks in the midst of the school grounds. He sat with his back propped against the trunk, and his knees bent to his chest. However his arms hung lazily over his knees, and his face was shadowed lightly by his hair. Beneath the thick wisps of jet black, Jem could see his face was brooding dark, and dangerous. He felt like shivering when William looked up at him, but then felt like punching him when his lips parted to laugh.

"You think its funny?" Jem asked with his eyes wide, and his little fists clenched at his side, "Are you really laughing at me?" William pressed the back of his head to the bark of the tree to get a better look at this sight. He could see the anger over Jem's pale skin, and the flush that fixed it was enough to color his face. His eyes swirled black almost, and when the wind pressed his white strands of hair across his face the reflection looked like little sirens in the sea ready to pull him in. He really was beautiful.

"I'm laughing aren't I? Something must be funny." With that William tested Jem, and was met with a reaction even he was surprised about.

The Moon Colored Boy lowered to level with Will there perched to the tree, and spoke to him almost as if he were a child. Will could tell that Jem in no way meant to restrain the way his words sounded, and was shocked at how brash he was being.

"I'm not the one wasting everyone's time, Your parents money paying for this school, and all this useless energy fighting off fools who probably just insulted your pride. Do you think this is a game? Do you even know how lucky you are to have been accepted here? This." Jem pointed to Will's chest, "Makes me realize that somewhere beneath all of this defiance is some sort of brain, but if you want to throw it all away over…over.." Jem hadn't thought that far, though Will was all he thought about. He wanted to figure him out, but the boy didn't give him any clues. "You are not stupid are you?" It really was beautiful the way anger brought out Jem's accent.

"Over having a good time. Jem. Don't you know how to live?" The truth was, he was so behind in all of his subjects that he would never catch up. His nights were spent in parties, and his days were spent recovering. When he did sleep, he dreamed about blood, and when he was awake it was still all he could think about.

"This is living for me." Jem's voice lost the anger, and he sat back in the grass. He looked almost child like he was so thin, willowy, and innocent. Finally, he lifted his face to look at Will once more, and realized he too had let go of his defiant smirk. He looked almost normal, and very young. "I can help you." Jem admitted carefully, knowing you didn't go offering anything to those who refused to help themselves, but Will didn't protest.

"Professor, put us together for a reason. Maybe he knows." Will wanted to laugh at how panicked Jem looked in that moment. Know what? How could he know? Jem hadn't told anyone of his crush! William fought back laughter, and really needed to teach the white haired boy a lesson on how to mask his emotions. "Knows how badly I need you…" With that Jem flushed until Will continued, "Your help I mean."

William didn't need his help he simply needed his dedication, and he needed direction. He needed someone to pull him back down, and Jem knew this. With his little frail hands on his thighs, he was perched there with his head bent forward, and his eyes closed for a moment. Jem let the world move around him for a moment, and wondered very carefully with the wind over his face. He felt the energy around him, and sighed in the breeze. It was beautiful to watch, and though William had read about it in books, he never knew how enchanting Tai Chi could be. Jem was centering himself, calming his nerves, and finding his heart again. And when his eyes opened once more they were silver again, and William thought of a picture he had skimmed of China once; silver springs through the lush green mountains.

"So," Jem started in a quiet yet calm voice, "Why did you fight that boy?"

William didn't have an answer, not yet. He knew he couldn't make Jem understand, but if he could only see himself the way William saw him—he would understand. Beauty like his was worth fighting for, because it was so rare.

"He insulted my pride." William smirked folding his hands behind his neck as he pressed his head back against the tree, and though it was partly a lie; It was also the truth. His 'pride' simply had stunningly beautiful eyes, and was innocent of the ugly rumors being spoken about him.

_They insulted you…_

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><p><strong>AN: This chapter is dedicated to Lallie Of Awesome (Lallie_O) Because tomorrow is her birthday! Wish her a happy birthday both here and on Twitter? Happy Birthday Lallie!**

**Ignore mistakes in this chapter, I didn't have it Beta'd. My Beta is in Europe, and though she told me to email her with things to update, I still feel guilty. She's a busy beaver! Have fun Ky! Miss you. **

**Have a good week everyone, and reviews get updates faster! With Center of the Sun winding down, these will start coming faster. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	6. Revolutions Uprising

**Warning: Blood and violence below. If you have not read my other fic Center of the Sun, then things might get a little wild for you. Keep in mind this is based after a third world war, and what would have happened if Hitler had been successful in his ideas of a 'perfect' world. **

* * *

><p><strong>Tears From the Moon<strong>

**Chapter 5. Revolutions Uprising**

_The paranoia is in bloom_

_The P.R. transmissions will resume_

_They'll try to push drugs, keep us all dumbed down_

_And hope that we will never see the truth around_

_So come on_

_Another promise, another scene, another_

_Packaged lie to keep us trapped in greed with all the_

_Green belts wrapped around our minds and endless_

_Red tape to keep the truth confined, so come on_

_They will not force us_

_And they will stop degrading us_

_And they will not control us_

_We will be victorious, so come on_

_Interchanging mind control_

_Come let the revolution take its toll_

_If you could flick a switch and open your third eye_

_You'd see that we should never be afraid to die_

_So come on_

_Rise up and take the power back_

_It's time the fat cats had a heart attack_

_You know that their time is coming to an end_

_We have to unify and watch our flag ascend_

_So come on_

_They will not force us_

_They will stop degrading us_

_They will not control us_

_We will be victorious, so come on_

_~Uprising by Muse_

**T**he change of the season shifted over the nation, and Jem was enchanted by the campus as the trees sparked to life in beautiful outlines of crimson and gold. Autumn was much the same in China, but here, in the destructive city, the small little refuge of trees somehow made it all the more enchanting. The air was cold enough now he needed a coat, and his father's old uniform jacket served him well; though the fabric was thin it was military issue and strong. It sheltered him well and filled his heart with pride every time he wore it. In the breast pocket he kept his father's old watch, and though it no longer worked, Jem felt it warm in his hands.

Jem's first class of the day was the longest, and the lectures could stretch on for hours. Through the day he found himself walking this path too often, and when the sun warmed his face through the red leaves Jem thought of home. In his heart there wasn't space for sorrow, but when he thought of his loving mother he sheltered her image deep behind his closed eyes.

Jem didn't sleep well in the dorm, and he didn't know what kept him up more; the guns firing in the distance, or the heavy moans of lovers in the rooms around him. All he knew was that he always felt the weight of it when the week was coming to a close. With his lunch finished, and with the warmth of the high noon sun, he found it easy to stretch out in his father's coat over the grass. He curled on his side against the base of the tree, and though he felt so very small-he felt sheltered and safe. It would not be long before he found himself dreaming.

* * *

><p><em><strong>H<strong>__e was home again, standing with his father, watching the wind blow through the tall grass. He could hear laughter over the misty mountains, and could see his mother with the cool waters over her ankles as she waded through the silver springs. Lovingly she beckoned him to join her, and her laughter was so musical it was hard to resist. However, that sinking feeling of regret came with the desire to step into the water, and he turned over his shoulder to look back at the man who in reality he had never met. In his dreams, Jem had conversations with this man as if he was standing right there. And when he woke in the morning he always felt his chest ache. _

_ In this dream he watched his father stand still while he joined his mother, and when he called out after him his words were silent. At first, it felt as though it were a jest, and at any moment his father would stroll along behind him. Yet, when Jem felt his heart stop he felt his mother's cold hands clasp around his wrist. The fear on her face tore the skin away from the bone, and her mouth cracked as it parted to scream. _

_ The fear took Jem, but when he turned once more to look over at his fathe,r he watched his father's chest explode with bullets._

* * *

><p><strong>S<strong>tartled awake, the first thing Jem noticed was how dark the sky had become, and with the night still too far away he narrowed his eyes in confusion. The wind was violent and the air, now cold without the sun, caused Jem to shiver in the oversized uniform coat. It took him a few moments to even remember where he was, but when reality swept through his clouded mind he started to sit up. His hair was wild atop his head, having fallen over his face while he slept, and now in the violent wind it tickled his lips.

Everything was quiet save for the brewing storm, and not a single soul was in sight. His heart pounded against his chest too afraid to move, but knowing the deep feeling of dread that harbored inside him belonged to the past. The fear shifted over the way he stood, and now upon his feet staring at the open courtyard he had never felt so small.

Through the glass of the cafe no one sat behind tables, no gossip spilled from lips untamed, and even the station behind the counter was abandoned with the door unlocked. Franticly now, he searched for life and felt as though the air had been taken from his chest. The recreational area outside the dining hall had half eaten lunches, and still fizzing soda cans littered the ground as if they had just been left. Bookbags and sweatshirts were tossed on benches, while little bits of paper danced in the wind. Where was everyone?

Frightened, Jem pulled his coat around him tighter to fight against the bitter cold on the wind, and the sinking freezing feeling of truly being left behind tore at him. In memories best left forgotten he recalled what the revelation said of the Rapture, but did God even still exist in this land? Perhaps, he had been left behind, but as quickly as that thought took him it left again to rejoin his fear. Finally, he flattened his lips against his mouth, and pushed into the wind to return to his dorm, feeling foolish to think that life could be taken in a blink of an eye.

Jem made his way through the campus growing more and more desperate as he went, and called out for anyone who would hear him. However, only the broken laughter of the autumn air would return his pleading. Slowly, he made his way to where the rest of the world began; the break in the outside world and the university. Ever since the time William had brought him from the train he had been too afraid to venture very far, but never did it fail his curiosity wondering what was beyond. The streets of London in all the history books had always spoken of how rich they were in diversity, and how families from all over the world would journey here just to see what it was like to be so free, but ever since the third world war, nothing had been the same.

His thoughts shifted, suddenly, when the cry of a large black raven pierced the darkness, and flew from his perch on one of the stone arches. The leaves had all dried up, and what remained came down in a fury from the bird's movements through the trees. Its heavy black wings beat wildly even after he landed. Perched there, upon the back of the stone, Jem felt its large black eyes on him, pinning him to where he stood. The heavy black beak looked as though it could take a finger or two, and the creature's talons caused the stone to flake beneath its strength. With every step that brought him closer, Jem slowed enough to listen to the bird, and somewhere in his blatant calls he thought he heard the raven pleading for him to turn back. Yet, not even this omen could drown out the sounds beyond the university's walls.

Jem could hear the streets full of voices, and instantly relief washed over him. He heard them in songs, singing together the praise of the fallen, and he wondered at the meaning. His silver eyes ran over the faces, but found no one that he knew. He saw men in black coats as long as his, and on their arms a band with an open eye symbol he had known to be called-fearless. Through the wind he watched them carry on through the streets like some great victory had befallen, but all Jem could tell that was in the midst was the crumpled...broken...bodies.

Blood. The streets ran with blood, heavy and hot the air smelled of iron. The heavy black sky was not to be blamed by the rain, but the ash and soot from the corner church that burned, and the songs were nothing now but the fearful cries of the fallen. He felt sick, but even more so he couldn't turn away.

Jem's whole body froze, and the air left his lungs as he gasped at the sight. He feared greatly for what was to come, and his muscles hurt from the tension building as he felt himself unable to move. He felt the way his heart burst inside his chest, and how the blood quickened his pulse. Despite his instincts to run, he simply stood his ground, but when he was finally able to free himself from the fear—heavy-half-covered-dirty hands fell like stones on his shoulders holding him in place. He carried the weight of the worlds it pressed down on him, and Jem's breath slowly pulled in.

"God please," he cried, and felt the blade at the base of his spine. Jem didn't know when he had started to cry, but shaking now the tears collected in his eyes; unwilling to fall just yet. "Please let me go." His voice was so small that it was almost missed, but the other man ignored it instead.

"Didn't you hear the sirens, Soldier?" The man's voice was cold, and alarming in the way it made him feel as though he should have been on his knees. It had the thick deadly sounds of demons, but the tormenting warmth of an angel—hope; Jem wondered if he spoke like that on purpose just to taunt his soul, but all he could do was shake his head feeling the edge of the blade run up his spine. It pressed against his coat, but didn't cut just yet.

"I-I'm..not..a soldier, Please." Jem's shoulders shook just like his voice, but slowly his hands came to fall beside him as if preparing to strike back should the man leave room for an attack.

"Where did you get the coat, pretty boy?" The man spoke like a viper, but moved like a panther slow and deadly. His long legs were captive inside skinny black jeans, and the back of his calves brushed by the length of his long trench coat that made him appear like a watchman in the night. Jem knew not of his name, but once his eyes traveled up to the man's face he could find familiarity in it. He knew him from the station, and in the way his hair was styled he knew him to be the martyr the rumors made him.

_They say he's a tall man, with black hair, and the devil's eyes._

"It-its my father's," Jem inhaled as he clutched the front closed, and continued only when he saw the blade, blood stained and rusty, was not alone. His other held a revolver, fully loaded, and clipped with bullets that would bare Jem's name should he step out of line, "Was." Jem breathed his correction, "Was my father's."

"Oh?" A coy smirk played across the thin lips of the man that behind him had an entire army of souls who looked half dead-forgotten. "Did he die, Sweetheart?" The forced compassion in this man's tone made Jem's skin crawl, but the way his eyes shone like a cat's in the dark made it freeze over again—devil's eyes. He was tall and thin, but not the sort that one would think him weak. No, this man breathed the very essence of strength and with it exhaled fear.

"He did," came Jem's answer, and his shoulders stopped their trembling long enough to set in harsh, rigid, manners. He wasn't about to let this fool bait him into anything he wasn't willing to give.

"Ah," the cat like man said again, "I could even wager in the war? What say you?" The dark man turned to look over his shoulder to those who watched with half pleased, demented, smiles, and revenge on their faces. "And a student I see." His half gloved hand pointed the dagger to Jem's neck where the small medical cross of his profession stood proudly around his pale throat.

"I..I am." At that Jem lifted his chin to get away from the knife, and he continued, "My Father was a physician, and I...I plan to be one too. Now please let me go, I have committed no crime." The Underground King, could admire the show of strength, and fire inside this little touch of white in a very black world. However, he too had a reputation to keep, and with the signal given the Forgotten moved from beyond his shoulders to surround Jem. The youth felt as though he was swimming, and the waters had become dark and dangerous with that of the deadly beasts.

"You think so?" Came the stranger's reply pulling him back in, and all of those who surrounded them started to laugh lightly. "Forgive me, but the rules are when lives are taken from me, I take them back. Did you not hear of the eleven killed this very day, my friend?" The cat eyed man asked as he made his way around Jem's shoulder's once more to taunt him further, "Three killed because they had lost their faith in God, four because they refused to believe a church should hold such power as to control how much food a family can get, and the rest?" Magnus stopped, taking hold of either side of Jem's waist, and pulled his frail little body back against his own, "Because they loved true to themselves, and not what rules would condemn us to." Meaning they were gay, Jem could relate. He had never felt attracted to a woman like he did a man, and perhaps if his life was not dangling before him, he would have thought this crazed man handsome.

Jem's heart raced again in this man's arms now, but still his eyes were mindful of the rest around him. He noticed that some wore masks, while other's exposed their face for the whole world to see. The eyes that looked at him seemed starved, and their feast was that of his skin; their wine his blood. Jem was done crying, but he was shaking like the autumn leaves clinging to his life like clinging to the branch unwilling to die just yet. He had gotten too far, but finally when the cold dagger came to his neck he closed his eyes with a gasp.

"Bane!" A voice boomed through smoke covered evening in the way that only the most feared could, and in that Jem felt the dagger fall swiftly . "Unhand him!" The voice was familiar in that sort of warm way that Jem associated with the French, and when he saw Jean-Luc his heart soured.

The tall Frenchman pulled from the darkness as if the smoke had been a veil that fell from his face, and little wisps of it touched his hair like long fingers combing desires through the shoulder length silk. His monarch, aristocratic, features were set stone as if carved from sculptors hands; too perfect to not be made of fine marble. He was a timeless man of years gone by, and even with his thin pale lips flat with anger he was beautiful. The long black cloak the Frenchman wore on days it was cold like this, reminded Jem of the wings of the raven he had seen earlier as it swelled with the ferocity of his steps. However, it was his captor's turn to feel the fear he had felt while watching the raven pass by.

"Oh, Professor…I was only having a little fun," the cat like man grinned, and Jem felt his anger rise. How dare he make such a face! He had half a mind to clock him when released, but when he did feel the man release him, all he could think about was closing the distance between he and his professor. Jean-Luc was happy to receive him, but he did not take the youth into his arms like Jem expected—wanted. Instead he used his cold fingers to tip Jem's chin back to examine his face. There was fear and part shame there upon the boy's white brow, but he was not hurt.

Jem looked up, and felt his face get hot with the touch, and prayed Jean-Luc to not notice how he blushed. He wanted to run to his room, and for the first time despite his first week he wanted to go back to China. However, when Jean-Luc's voice broke through his thoughts he was amazed at how truly intimidating he could be when he was angry.

"How dare you. You know the rules," the Frenchman hissed, and despite the aid of the walking cane he stood taller than Magnus-a feat that hardly ever happened, but even before the Frenchman; Magnus could stand his ground.

"He was out after the sirens, I promise you that," Magnus returned, and narrowed his eyes while twisting his lips into a coy smirk.

"He is a student. Students are off limits to your political wars," came Jean's answer, and the hand that held his family's crest embedded in silver fell on Jem's shoulder, the ring glinting in the light. Jem fought the urge to curl into his broad chest, and even worried his bottom lip while looking up at the much taller men as they argued. "There are limits to this madness, Magnus. I will not tolerate you toying with my students."

"He is a student in a soldier's coat, Old Man. That forfeits those rules." The unwritten unspoken rules that had been what kept sanity in the city almost seemed as if they shouldn't matter anymore; students spared along with the elderly, and children. However, the King had gone mad, and every day more and more innocent lives were taken simply because they 'were not perfect'. Hilter had been sane enough to keep it a secret from the rest of the world, but the old English King killed them on the streets for all to see; and the world could only watch powerless to his madness. The war had taken its toll on them all, and for the first time Jem wondered what side his father had fought for. He loved this coat, but when Jean-Luc's fingers tightened over Jem's shoulders he wished to be free of it. Jean-Luc held him out of fear now, because somewhere Magnus was right. Jem was wearing a military issued coat.

"He didn't know," came the now quiet voice of his Professor, and Jem could almost swear it sounded like he was begging. He wanted to turn and fight Jean-Luc on his words. He shouldn't beg! Not for his life. No, not even his own life was worth listening to Jean-Luc so desperate. "It won't happen again."

The Underground King gave Jem a dark look, though with the coy grin that brought life to his cat-like eyes he felt relief wash over him. "Make sure that it doesn't." With that Magnus touched Jem's chin before he slipped his fingers gently over his flushed cheek, and Jem wanted to turn away from the touch. "My...you are a beautiful one." Something in the way Magnus looked at him made him realize that there was a kind soul beneath all the blood, but when he looked over his shoulder to one of the masked men Jem felt sick. The eyes that looked at him through the black fabric could have easily belonged to Will they were the same color, but William wouldn't be out here like this. No, over the past few weeks Jem had noticed a change in his classmate, and Will cared suddenly. He listened to Jean-Luc's lectures, and learned. He met with Jem often to work on their project, and sometimes would even sit with him at the dining hall. More and more they were growing together, and he couldn't stand to think of him here. However, Jem felt sick in this moment. He felt as though every time William had to leave so suddenly he knew why, and a great part of him wanted to break from Jean-Luc to rip that mask right off that face. Yet…he was young, and innocent; and quickly put away the notion.

William wouldn't do something like this, would he?

"Take him back, Jean-Luc, and perhaps teach him how the world really works, hmm? Such an innocent thing, I'd be afraid of what would happen." The cat eyed man spoke over his shoulder as he slipped back into the crowd, and the sea of people would part to take him—pulling him back Underground, where he himself had been condemned because he loved another set of blue eyes; ones almost the same color as William's.

Finally, they were gone, and Jem felt himself able to breathe again. He felt sick, faint, and wanted very much to just find somewhere dark he could lay down. He noticed that with the fading figures so too did the streets start to fill with soldiers, and this was when Jean-Luc would shelter him beneath his dark wing to lead him away from the gory battlefield. It was clear they had much to talk about, but all Jem could think about was how haunting those blue eyes had been.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: First I would like ton say thank you to Ky, for all you do. I plan to marry her, and her Beta services are more than just fixing typos. Thank you. **

**Second, I would like to make it known that if anyone does not understand what is going on please feel free to ask me. I know Center of the Sun is a beast and a bit confusing at first, but if you can't tell what is happening(or just don't want to read CotS) I will happily help you. These stories mean a lot to me because they could very well someday happen. The government shouldn't be able to control who we love, or what faith we follow. We are all equal in every way, and it shouldn't matter if we love a man or a woman. It should not be a crime, but in this fic it is. People are killed for less.**

**I'm so proud of NY, and this is the first chapter I have put up I have been able to express it. Thank you.**

**Finally, forgive the lateness of all my updates. I've been very busy, and I know everyone else is too. I can always tell when you all are busy by how fast(or slow) the hit counter goes up, or how many reviews I get each chap. Please leave them. They push me forward, and I want to publish someday. I'll dedicate the book to you all!**

**Thank you, and watch for CotS's update sometime soon. Just need mojo to finish. So review please. I need the push.**


	7. The Bells

**Tears From The Moon**

**Chapter 7. The Bells**

_Hear the loud alarum bells -_

_Brazen bells!_

_What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!_

_In the startled ear of night_

_How they scream out their affright!_

_Too much horrified to speak,_

_They can only shriek, shriek,_

_Out of tune,_

_In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,_

_In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,_

_Leaping higher, higher, higher,_

_With a desperate desire,_

_And a resolute endeavor_

_Now - now to sit, or never,_

_By the side of the pale - faced moon._

_~The Bells, by Edgar Allen Poe_

_**The Evening Before the Attack:**_

_**H**__e hated the fall, and hated that the weather turned cold. In England the summers were so short, but in truth, it was the springs that lasted forever. It always rained, but now as the season changed, the weather was dry enough to welcome the sun; only to turn bitter cold at the end of the day. It was a curse really, this autumn weather, because when William inhaled the blunt of his cigarette not only did the smoke burn his lungs, but the chill in the air made his chest tight. His mother had written him over the weekend, her words as stern as his father's on how if he didn't pass this semester they would pull him from the school, but little did they know school was the last thing on his mind. However, he still met with the white haired Chinaman each day in the courtyards to study alongside him as if everything Jem said sank in, but slowly and desperately each day pushed him further from his will to go on. He would still meet Jem, but it was not to study. It was William's desire simply to be close to the soft spoken, kind hearted boy. _

_ "You really shouldn't do that," Jem's voice broke his thoughts with that irritated hiss that made him wrinkle his nose like a kitten, and though William should have questioned him he knew it was because he was holding in the smoke—enjoying the burn like a blade through his lungs. However, when he did exhale Jem's face turned green from the sickness that plagued him from the cigarette smoke. William would have felt guilty, but at the moment this dirty habit was all he had to help him forget of the true poison that ran through his veins. _

_ "Do what?" Will asked, but his grin came after Jem's silver eyes cast him a hateful glare. "Why does it bother you so much?" He finally asked, ashing the cherry on the table next to them, which was the last string holding together Jem's patience. _

_ "Be-cause."Jem huffed, reaching across William to take the cancer stick from his hand, "It is bad for you." Will pulled his hand back to make Jem reach across him, and the boy practically had to climb on his lap to even come to close to snatching it, "And it is gross."_

_Jem pawed at William's shoulder to reach it, stretching his body until he felt the tension in his abs, "And you are not paying attention to a single word I am saying." Finally, after achieving the cigarette Jem tossed it away, and William laughed when the white haired boy even snuffed out the smoke._

_ "You are too much, Jin." William smiled reaching up to touch Jem's cheek, and the simple brush of his fingers brought fire to fill the boy's face. The blush was beautiful on his pale skin, but the light in his silver eyes was more than Will could take. "You care too much." He stated out of the blue, still tracing the outline of Jem's face with the tips of his fingers. _

_ "You are right," came Jem's whisper, "I do." He felt his body shiver under the touch of the other, and leaned in to the feeling. Just the touch was erotic, but when William brushed his fingers down the sensitive part of Jem's neck; the white haired boy parted his lips in the most beautiful sigh William had ever known. He wanted to feast on that sound, devour those pale lips, and the hunger there put him in place with the wolf-Jem the lamb. _

_ "You," William whispered leaning in to breathe in the honey scent that had haunted his very existence, but just before his lips could touch the warm skin his eyes shifted to see the university's guards start their rounds. As quickly as his touch came, it ended, and left Jem breathless. Somewhere in the contact Jem had felt himself letting go, wanting nothing more than Will to kiss him, and closed his eyes just before he was certain he would be given his first kiss. But when Jem opened his eyes when he felt William pull away, and ran a trembling hand up through his own hair to help ease his trembling hand. Very badly, he wanted to question Will as a thousand unanswered feelings rushed him, but when he parted his lips to speak he was silenced by the way William's face had paled. _

_ The attack was violent, and William quickly stood to move away. The coughs caused his entire body to ache from the strain, and Jem noticed how they taxed him. Yet, he needed to get away before the soldiers saw him, he needed to protect Jem, but the boy was quick to follow._

_ "Will?" Jem tried to keep up, and when he caught hold of William's arm he was instantly taken back. The dark haired boy, who had always been rough around the edges, held his chest as the pain held control. Air came in small gasps between the coughs, but when Will pulled away they started to ease._

_ "William? Wait." Jem begged, but just as quickly as Will left he turned back on Jem. "William!" Jem gasped at the blood there on his shirt, and which pooled in his palm. It fell through his fingers like rain, and stained the sidewalk. "What is happening to you?"Jem asked brokenheartedly, and wanted to fall to his knees when he noticed the whites in William's eyes were as crimson as the stain now on his collar._

_ "Get back." Will's voice sounded so defeated, desperate to force the white haired boy away; just as he should have before, and now he was to be punished for giving in. Jem didn't stop, but finally when William's hand pressed on his chest he couldn't get any closer, "I'm fine." He lied, but Jem did notice the color returning to his face, "I'll see you tomorrow ok?"_

_ "Will...That's not fine!" Jem's voice was close to breaking, "You are scaring me. Tell me what is going on." The guards were closer, and Will turned dangerous eyes over Jem's shoulder in worry they would notice the commotion. _

_ "I said I was fine." William snapped, and the tone in his voice caused Jem to finally stop. Helplessly, the silver eyed boy watched as Will's attention turned away, and he brushed the back of his hand over his lips to clean the blood, "I'll see you tomorrow ok?"_

_ "Ok," Jem said quietly watching Will walk away, "See you tomorrow." The last part was spoken to himself. William was too far gone._

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day:<strong>

**"I** don't understand," Jem spoke, still nestled beneath the professor's arm. He hadn't realized until his finger's ached that he was clinging to the fine wool of Jean-Luc's beautiful coat. The Frenchman always dressed like some stately lord, and was as decorated as any fine aristocrat. In the smoke it was easy to see what had frightened the Underground men so easily; Jean-Luc was of the sorts where his face was so beautiful it appeared as one of those mask carved of fine porcelain and painted in blood. His pale lips were outlined with his concern, but it was fear that was behind his dark eyes; and for this Jem felt guilt tug at his heart while he lowered his gaze. Jean-Luc had not spoken a single word to him their entire walk back through the University, and by now he was desperate to hear anything the Professor had to say-even if it was in French.

"Forgive me, Master St. Laurence, I did not mean to frighten you." Jem spoke so defeated, but still clung to the warmth of the man's side. He was so small compared to the Frenchman, and despite Jean-Luc's cold fingers he was warm-inviting. When Jean did not answer Jem lifted his silver eyes to study his ageless face. It made him wonder how old Jean-Luc really was; his features were flawless and youthful, but his eyes were timeless. With every little spark of light on the midnight color of his eyes, it made Jem think of a cluster of stars as if each brilliant idea had found its place in the heavens. "I fell asleep in the courtyard, and-"

"You did not know." The Frenchman's voice was a whisper, and in it there was enough pain to settle Jem's nerves Jean-Luc no longer cared, that he was angry; he did care, and perhaps too much. "It is partly my fault. I should have warned you." With that Jem turned his eyes again quickly up to the beautiful face of his Professor, and stopped in his stride.

"Don't say that, it's not your fault." Jean-Luc pulled Jem along, and the boy's steps hurried to keep up, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again. That man..." Jem's voice stopped when ahead of them he saw the Raven, its large black eyes glaring at him from its perch on the iron fence that surrounded the University's clock tower, and he quickly moved to the other side of the Frenchman-furthest away from the bird. "That man you called Bane. He said something about sirens."

"Magnus," Jean-Luc corrected him, tightening his hold on the shoulder that Jem now leaned into, and though his knuckles were white, Jem noticed, it wasn't because he held too tight. Quickly, Jem's silver eyes danced again to Jean-Luc's face that masked a very real pain, and the evidence was there in the flat lines of his lips. He was not angry, he was in pain, and finally Jem realized he was without his cane. Had he been in such a hurry he had left it? Instantly, Jem leaned in further now, hugging one arm around Jean-Luc's slender waist, and the motion made a small smile curl on Jean-Luc's lips. "Thank you."

Jem was surprised at how muscular Jean-Luc was beneath all those beautiful clothes, and his entire body warmed. It was only natural to have a crush on your Professor wasn't it? Nothing real would ever come of it, but besides William this man was all he had here.

"It is an on-going war Jem, and when the battle gets too close there are sirens that keeps everyone indoors." Jean-Luc's hand tightened on Jem's shoulder as they came to the flight of stairs that would lead to the clock tower that was home to his office. "As soon as you hear them, you must find shelter. Many of the buildings are marked with safe rooms, and from there you are not to leave until the bells chime. Everything in the city is set up much the same." As they started their way up the stairs, Jem did noticed the small white cross on the stone indicating this was in fact a safe place. He had never been to Jean-Luc's office, but he knew this building well. The clock was as old as the city, and every night it chimed quietly alongside Big Ben; like a tiny echo. All of the university used this clock more so than Ben due to the mighty clock tower having been damaged during the third world war.

"But I do not understand. The war is over. Why does the military not do anything?" Jem asked feeling eyes of those who had taken refuge here on him as they passed together, "How hard would it have been to simply bomb them all today. Kill all of those people?" With that said, Jean-Luc, turned a look of surprise down to the little youth under his arm, and was instantly taken back. He had never imagined that Jem was capable of such words, but when he got a better look at Jem's coat he could see the weather faded wording of his father's name. Jem had grown up in the secluded mountains of China, how was he to know?

"What if they are the ones who are right?" Jean-Luc asked quietly as he slipped the key from his pocket to push open the old oak door that led to a room far too beautiful to ever be an office. The tall windows overlooked all of London, and now Jem knew how the Professor had known he was in trouble. Below he could see the small shadows of the rebels still on the streets; their destruction still lighting up the night. How could people so violent be right?

The tea set was still warm, and when Jean-Luc took off his coat he was quick to settle in the chair to prop his bad leg up. "Go hang your coat, and then come sit with me." A ghost of Jean's hand motioned to the chair opposite of him, and the wave of the lace cuff broke his attention. Jem turned from the window to take off his father's coat, and moved to hang it where the Frenchman's did.

The clock tower was beautiful, and where there was bookcases full of old books there was also gears and cogs far too polished to have ever belonged here. The ceiling was high as it stretched into the workings of the ancient clock, and Jem wondered when the bells chimed if the entire room would shake. The actual brass bell was outside, but still the room was so close it had to be loud. The large hands of the clock's face were shadows against the glass, but still beautiful. However, when the large wings of the raven beat in time with his heart as it landed, Jem made his way quickly to the seat opposite the Frenchman who was clearly exhausted, and it seemed even holding the tea cup was forced.

"So what makes them right? Killing all of those people?" Jem asked despite his desire to simply let the Frenchman remain in his thoughts, and though Jean's black eyes were focused outside the window Jem felt them always on him. It made him peek around the chair to see the Raven not very far now-watching.

"I never said they were right," came Jean's answer, as he leaned in to finally pour Jem some of the warm herbal tea to help ease his nerves, "To say they are right, is treason, and I would be killed on the streets for such talk." Jem looked confused, but took the cup, "I just never said they were wrong."

Jem couldn't help but continue to study the room, and was eager to know what was in so many large leather bound books. They were beautiful there with the wall sconces illuminating the gold lettering, and the various little objects of Jean's scientific profession decorating the mighty cases. Jem wanted to be a physician so badly, but he hardly had the chance to ever really get into the other side of healing. He was perfectly fine practicing what had already been studied, but it was clear Jean-Luc was more interested in finding cures that didn't exist.

"I just...I just don't understand. Killing is not the answer. All of those beautiful trees down there ruined because of their hatred, and they would have killed me too?" Jem asked searching the window and watching as the figures started to move on. "Because of my Father's coat."

"Yes. They would have. Jem, but there is so much more to it all. I would not even know where to begin, and wonder if I even should. You are so innocent, and a great part of me wants nothing more than to call your family and force them to make you go home." With that Jem's eyes sliced from the window to the man, and his anger burned through his eyes like silver melted. "But I wouldn't." Jean-Luc leaned forward to hand Jem a book that had been beside his chair, and Jem opened it slowly.

The large leather bound book was filled with old newspaper clippings, and images far more gruesome than that of the streets below. Page after page of pictures made Jem's heart ache, but it was when the image of a blonde woman who appeared to be his age, stood screaming in the streets as her father tore her away from a woman who had clearly been shot right in front of her eyes. Upon closer look Jem recognized the blonde as one of the women there in the streets today, but her face had aged with the hatred she must have felt.

"Her father shot her lover there in front of her, and later that night she had killed them all in retaliation," Jean-Luc explained, and Jem turned the page. The tears were cold on his cheeks, despite how warm Jem's skin was, and the silver water stained the pages. Each was more devastating than the past, and he had to stop when he came across a family hung on the cast iron fence; the children hardly even old enough to walk.

"Wh-why? Why were they killed like that? Who did this?" Jean-Luc started to take the book from him, but the boy clutched it to his chest as if his broken heart could heal all their pain.

"They were killed because they were Jewish, the woman because she did not love another man, and this-" Jean-Luc turned one more page to show a few obituaries, and Jem instantly recognized the man in the picture. It was one who spoke to him today, the one who dangled his own fate around on his fingers before Jean-Luc stepped in. "He is the one who started the rebellion." Jem's eyes danced over the face of an obviously younger man, who smiled in this picture, and was the very image of what it was to be carefree. However, now with his features still clear in Jem's mind, it appeared he carried all the weight of what the world rejected on his shoulders.

"But even Hilter had the decency to be desecrate. This King...just kills them on the streets." Jem looked over the obituary of Magnus once more, "It says he died three years ago." Jem furrowed his brow confused, but looked up to Jean-Luc who was as well studying the page.

"To this world, he is dead, but there in the Underground they all found life again. So this is what they fight for, and I fear greatly for what is to come." Jem did not notice that Jean-Luc was staring at him, watching his kind features studying the pages, but when Jem sighed his heart broke knowing that a great part of that innocence was fading away. Jean-Luc never thought this boy to be ignorant, but he almost hated himself for having to be the one to break the news.

"All because they are not perfect?" Jem looked up suddenly from the dusty old pages, and worried his lip between his teeth before moving the book from his lap. "I'm not perfect. Look at me. I'm a freak." He paled thinking of his white hair, and ran his thin fingers through the strands that now brushed his shoulders. On the edge of the seat Jean-Luc could now reach the boy as he extended his long fingers, and brushed back a pale strand of Jem's hair like a spider spinning through web.

"You are beautiful," Jean-Luc spoke as he touched the chin of the boy to lift his eyes, and for the first time in a very long time Jem did feel just that-beautiful. However, concern flooded his silver eyes, and the words that came next fell like cold rain from his lips. They broke Jean-Luc's heart.

"Will is very sick, Master."Jem broke from his trance, and it hardly seemed to matter when Jean-Luc's hand fell away to settle again over the carved arm of the chair. Jem pulled a paper from the breast pocket of his vest, and it was clear he was nervous about giving it to the Professor, "I think…" He worried his lip, and finally let Jean-Luc see the paper.

"I was up all night researching his symptoms. They came so suddenly. I must have been so tired I fell asleep." Sinking back in his chair Jem sighed as Jean-Luc read over the paper, and he curled into the cushion. "I don't know much about the sickness, and there isn't much out there about it." And if anyone knew what it was—Jean-Luc would.

The Professor folded down the paper again, and made his way to where a candle was burning. The fire came so fast that Jem hardly had time to protest, and when the ashes hit the trashcan they too smoldered into nothing. Standing there with the small wisps of smoke filtering up over his face, Jean-Luc looked deadly, but it was when his dark eyes flashed angrily to Jem; he suddenly wished he had never brought it up.

"Accusations like that could get you both killed." Twice in one day Jem felt guilty for upsetting this beautiful man, but when the bells rang they broke through his pounding heart. "Have a good night, Jem." When Jem stood to leave, Jean-Luc followed him to the door, but it wasn't his father's coat the Professor helped him into; it was the beautiful wool one with the silver buttons that Jem had always admired. This coat too was far too big on him, and though he wanted to protest greatly he knew he had to give up the soldier's coat; it had almost gotten him killed, and he wouldn't allow his mother to be sent it in a box one more time.

Jem didn't put his arms through the sleeves, but pulled the coat around him before he looked up to whisper, "Thank you…"

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><p><strong>AN: Things are going to start moving very fast soon, if you get lost let me know. With Center of the Sun wrapping up, this fic needs to end soon too as the bad guy is in this one. Have we met him already? Maybe. Tell me what you think? **

**Also, if you haven't figured it out, Will has a sort of HIV that is actually a pretty deep twist, and will be better explained in the next chapter. The bad guy for CotS 2 will be clear in the next chapter. **

**Don't forget to find me on Twitter and Tumblr! At StarryOwlEyes or Tumblr: Thou-Shall-Not-Fall**


	8. Frozen

****Adult Content (means sex…smutty goodness)****

****Went from T rating to M rating super fast.****

_****Beta: FindaBookMark, the best! Love you Ky!****_

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><p><em>Quick recap, the last time we saw Jem he was with the Professor after being attacked on the streets by Magnus and his gang.<em>

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><p><strong>Tears from the Moon<strong>

**Chapter 7. Frozen**

_You only see what your eyes want to see_

_How can life be what you want it to be_

_You're frozen_

_When your heart's not open_

_You're so consumed with how much you get_

_You waste your time with hate and regret_

_You're broken_

_When your heart's not open_

_Mmmmmm, if I could melt your heart_

_Mmmmmm, we'd never be apart_

_Mmmmmm, give yourself to me_

_Mmmmmm, you hold the key_

_Now there's no point in placing the blame_

_And you should know I suffer the same_

_If I lose you_

_My heart will be broken_

_Love is a bird, she needs to fly_

_Let all the hurt inside of you die_

_You're frozen_

_When your heart's not open_

_Mmmmmm, if I could melt your heart_

_Mmmmmm, we'd never be apart_

_Mmmmmm, give yourself to me_

_Mmmmmm, you hold the key_

_You only see what your eyes want to see_

_How can life be what you want it to be_

_You're frozen_

_When your heart's not open_

_Mmmmmm, if I could melt your heart_

_Mmmmmm, we'd never be apart_

_Mmmmmm, give yourself to me_

_Mmmmmm, you hold the key_

_If I could melt your heart_

_~Frozen by Madonna_

**J**em had a lot of time to think on his walk back to his dorm, but no matter how he tried to clear his thoughts they always came back to William. In their short time together he knew he had gained a true friend, but today…the touch, made him realize how deep his feelings truly went. He was in love with the boy, and even now as he walked he worried his bottom lip with the fear of having to let him go. The beautiful youth was waging a war upon his own heart, but he couldn't deny it any longer. William's handsome face, his strong shoulders, and his vampire grin captivated him beyond anything he had ever thought possible. And until today, Jem had felt that only he could harbor such emotions. However, he worried now—worried of William's health as well his sanity. The Professor had confirmed his suspicions but Jem had put all his faith into enlisting the beautiful Doctor in helping him succeed to finding a cure. But that had gone up in flames, right before his eyes.

"Will," Jem breathed while he felt his heart break, and folded his hands over his chest as if to comfort his bleeding vessel.

The night was young, yet the lanterns had already been lit, and the path that he walked he felt he walked alone. Jem was uncaring of the catlike eyes he had imagined to be in the dark, he was uncaring of the soldiers that roamed the streets, and unyielding in his fear of the fires burning in the distance. The city was going to hell, but still the University continued with the every day. He was worn from the day's events, but wearier of the way they made him feel. And very thankful for the man who saved him, but worried now of his friend.

The Professor had instructed him to go straight to his dorm, but in the enchantment of the moonlight on the unlit side of the campus Jem passed beneath William's window in search of any sign the boy was inside. Will's room was a few floors up, but Jem could see his light on. He could see the outline of his figure as if he were praying, his hands together, his head down, but his back was against the glass. The window was open slightly, enough that he could smell the stale scent of his cigarettes as the smoke passed through the crack in the glass, and just as Jem had the idea of calling out to him he heard a woman's voice.

"William…" She cried, her voice scaling in praise of the pleasure like a song, "More, Faster, Yes." Just then he could see her, her body wrapping further around his, her legs tightening in the embrace, and in the light of the moon Jem could see her hands run up through Will's hair—and he froze. Those were his dark strands…his beautiful shoulders to touch…his lips to kiss with a crimson stain, and suddenly a child who had never known hatred—hated that woman. He hated himself for feeling so upset, and he hated the way his heart broke. Tears swelled in his eyes, that he tried to fight back, and finally he looked away. His hands still clasped over his heart tightened, and he felt his knees grow weak. All he could do was tell himself this was a horrid nightmare, that when he looked again he would realize that the events of the day had simply been playing tricks on him, but when Jem finally looked up once more he met William's eyes. Even in the dark they still shimmered like the ocean—blue and untouched by war.

"Jem…" His name was breathed across the skin of a woman's shoulder, but before he could even get her off him Jem was gone. William raced through the hall, the voice of his angry company calling out after him in demand of a refund.

"Jem wait!" Will called out through the windows in the stairwell as he raced down them, his pants undone still, and his shirt forgotten. "Jem!" He watched white haired youth disappear into his own dorm, he could see his retreating form race up the stairs, but still he continued.

"It wasn't what it looked like."

Jem heard his voice behind him, but he pressed on. He had stopped running half way to his dorm, but he was far enough ahead he didn't have to worry of the elevator being late. He tried to put up the walls around his heart to keep from turning at the desperate sound of his voice, _It wasn't what it looked like…_What did he even say to that? How did he reply to such things. Why should it matter? He had imagined it all hadn't he? Every little touch, every stolen glance, beautiful whispers…all of it. Without thinking he turned to press the button for his floor, and knew that when those elevator doors closed he would vow to never see Will again. But just as the steel closed, William put out his hand to open them once more.

Nothing needed to be said, nothing that he could correct, and when the doors closed behind his half naked form William had his boy pinned. They were alone, and Jem could hardly breathe. He was out of breath from crying, running, and now with the warmth of the other boy radiating off his skin like a flame, Jem felt his heart catch in his throat.

"It's not what it looked like, Jem. Let me explain."

"It's ok," He tried to lie, tried to admit that he didn't care, but he was shaking too hard to continue. He had a hard time meeting William's eyes in fear of sobbing, but looking at his chest….the way the skin glistened and was pulled over his stone structure made his face fill with color. "It doesn't matter. I know what I am to you." He tried to admit all at once, and finally through his heavy breathing lifted his eyes to meet Will's once more.

"No," Will whispered, "No you don't. You don't know what you are to me." He sounded as though he would break from trying to protect Jem from the truth, but his words were beautifully whispered—painfully spoken. "You…" Jem waited with baited breath to hear what he had waited so long for, but the bell went off to signal the next floor while the doors opened.

It must have been time for the guard's to change outside of Alec's dorm because the two men that got on were speaking of the Prince as if he were a plague to their existence, but when they got a good look at Will they both went silent. Jem turned his eyes away, his face flushed, but his frown still present. He shared the floor with the Prince, they sometimes shared a bathroom due to his always acting up, and finally when his floor was reached the men moved to let them out first.

"Jem please," Will followed him for a moment, and between the events of the night and now the two guards staring all the stubborn hurtful pride he felt washed away in pity of leaving Will to the wolves.

"Come inside. But…" He sucked in air spitefully through his teeth, "Not like you did in _her."_ He hadn't the slightest clue how bitter that made him sound, but just hearing it made William want to fall to his knees. He had sworn a long time ago that he would do everything to protect his purity, but he watched it all fade away with every jaded word that fell from Jem's lips.

Will had never been inside Jem's dorm before, but it was everything he had expected. The air was rich and so full of life from all the various plants he cared for. The hospital like white was broken up with deep crimson silks, and dark wood furnishings. A little water feature trickled over river rocks on his dresser, and there were so many candles that when lit Will could imagine looked like the night sky. Everything was so simple yet so elegantly arranged. The modern style with the natural wood finishes made him feel as though he were stepping into a world that this city had never known.

"This is beautiful," Will whispered, but realized he was speaking to Jem's back. The other boy was clearly upset, but calming as he started to light each candle one by one. The room smelled as sweet as Jem's hair, and William noted the white orchids blooming in a long box by the window.

"It took me a long time to make it feel like home." And the room was a picture proof of everything William had ever read on the Tai Chi, and he could imagine Jem seated in the midst of it all calming his spirit while calming his mind. Just being here made him feel at peace.

Jem had taken off his new coat and placed it on a peg by the door, and William narrowed his eyes to get a better look at the buttons. He knew that coat, and just the very idea of it made his blood boil.

"Why do you have the Professor's coat?" His question was spiteful and jealous, and in that Jem turned on him like a viper to strike back.

"So it's ok for you to fuck some tramp, but I can't wear another man's clothes?" All of his anger and hurt feelings came out in a betrayal of tones that he wasn't known for, "I was attacked today. I was almost killed. Because of my father's coat, because of this stupid war, and he saved me. William, they had blood on their hands, fire in their eyes, and horrid masks on their faces—but all I could think about was getting to you. And...And.." He sucked in a breath, unable to contain his emotions anymore, and finally just buried his head in his hands.

William wasn't shocked by the outburst, but simply sick that he was the one to cause it. He hated the way it made him feel to see his friend so upset, and moved to do something so out of his character that he wouldn't admit it to anyone. His fingers came to touch Jem's arm at first, hooking where the bend started and trailing up until he was able to pull him against his chest. His other hand came up to brush Jem's silver hair behind his ears, and he ran his thumb along his cheek.

"Don't cry, please let me explain." Will's touch on Jem's skin set his flesh on fire with chills that chased his spine like a cold hand, and he wanted to fall into this man. He wanted to run his palm along the skin as if it were a rare silk, and cherish each moment. However, all he could do was keep his hand up to force the space between them.

"You don't have to explain, Will. I'm over reacting. I've just had a really long day, and now realizing that you don't feel the way about me that I feel about you-" That was all Will needed to hear before he forced the space between them to close and his lips captured Jem's with a fierce need. His hands larger than Jem's moved to collect the boy, and forced him to give in. Jem found his place against Will's chest, and surrendered more than just his body. He could have forgiven Will of anything just to be kissed like this, with a need that only his lips could sate, and even now with his mouth parting to welcome him further—it wasn't enough.

Jem ran a hand up Will's neck, drawing little lines over where his blood pulsed under his skin, and continued to up into the cool tips of his hair fanned between his fingers. How long had he dreamed of doing this? Being here where he was? It felt as though eternity was frozen in an attempt to shelter his soul from such a forbidden love, but he couldn't deny it any longer. It wasn't until Jem tasted his tongue did his mind go back to the window, and the woman inside it—he pulled away.

"You smell like her," He was still held tightly by William's arms, the strength to which he was captive made him feel so secure that he hated to go without it. "She touched you, she kissed you like this…you were kissing her." Finally, he opened his eyes and tried to press Will away, but he wouldn't go very far.

"I did." He admitted quietly his hands folding behind the small of Jem's back, and the candlelight warm across his face made Jem wonder if this was even real. He had never known Will to have so much life in his eyes, or such vivid color on his skin. It appeared as though his blood was burning gold from the inside, and he looked so at peace with himself.

"And I don't even know where to start, but…" Will's eye fell, his dark hair falling over his eyes to hide away the betrayal that he felt. He felt dirty just having to admit the truth, and longed to wash away the guilt as well the scent of that woman. Finally, he looked up again, and in a very quiet, very broken voice admitted the truth.

"It's the only way I could pay for the drugs."

Jem didn't know what to be disgusted with more, the fact that William was selling his body for lethal poisons, or that he hadn't come to him as his first client. As if hadn't truly sank in Jem questioned him, and his intentions. But Will could only reply with another fall of his eyes to the floor, and Jem knew it wasn't for pleasure. There was too much shame and guilt in his face now to have ever wanted those drugs from recreation. And now it was his turn to take the man's face into his hands and return his eyes to his own.

"Why do you need the drugs, Will?" Jem felt Will sway in his steps and he moved to seat him on the edge of his bed. He pulled the soft knitted throw over his shoulders as he started to explain, and listened for the first time without his jealousy getting the better of him.

"Because I'm sick, James." James. It was the first time Will had ever used his real name, and it was far more intimate than it should have been. "It's the only thing that takes away the pain. They can't give me anything at the clinic, and I can't go the Doctor or I'll be killed. It's a disease that is transferred from blood, but they say it's because of sin. And if my parents found out, I'd never get to graduate, they would disown me, and…" He looked up to see the reflection of the candles in Jem's silver eyes, and the compassion there was overflowing with his concern—and Will hated every moment. He hated feeling weak, he hated feeling that there was nothing he could do, but most of all he hated the way this made it real.

"Will…" Jem breathed as he whispered his name, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because what could you have done? Just sit there and watch me suffer? Flash your beautiful eyes at me and torture me with knowing that you pity me just the same? I can't be pitied, but…" He reached up and touched Jem's face and could have almost believed in heaven if knowing that letting go of this beautiful man was going to be his hell. "Ever since the moment I met you, that very first day I can't get you out of my mind." Jem smiled despite how betrayed he felt, and closed his eyes in hopes that his dark lashes would help mask the flush of color over his cheeks.

"I feel the same." He admitted after a moment and opened his eyes again, slowly this time as if he were afraid Will wouldn't be there—that this was all a dream.

A draft through the windowpane shifted Jem's silk curtains, and the sash that held them back wanted to buckle but refused. Just like his will he refused to let go of William. He wasn't a stubborn man, but he was a strong willed one. And Jem wasn't about to give up this fight so easy. Will looked so tired again he looked drained and weak. He looked as if at any moment he would leave, and Jem reached out to take his hand.

_Stay…_

His hands seemed to say as he put them back on his body, he placed Will's palms back on his shoulders, and the heat of his skin through the thin layer of his shirt warmed his fingers.

"Jem…" Will spoke quietly, "We can't ever make love. I'll infect you. Even one drop of my blood…" Will stood, but so did Jem, And the white haired youth was quick to stand in his way of the door. His fingers trembled as found the separation between the fabric of his own shirt, and started to undo the buttons. William sat back on the bed again, watching every move the boy made as if it he were dancing. He wanted to protest, and started to when the bare shoulders of the youth revealed from the white fabric.

"You can take of her what you need, but you can't me?" Jem spoke as he turned away from Will and slid the shirt all the way off.

"I could die-"

"So could I. And I almost did. Tonight." Jem moved to the window box where the blossoms waited, ripe and ready for plucking; William watching his hips as they swayed in each step—Jem's body was just as the flower. With a stem of the orchids in his hand, Jem turned once more to face the other man.

"We can't. I'll infect you." William had to look up to Jem when the distance between them closed, and the pressure in his loins was easy to ignore until he stood this close. The flower he hardly noticed was against his skin until Jem brushed it from his shoulder over his chest, and the sensation rippled through Will until he was certain he would burst. The warm nectar and little bit of water caused it to feel as if it were Jem's lips, and William gave a content sigh.

"There are other ways…" Those four little words were more of a drug than any poison with the label of ecstasy could produce. The warmth in them intoxicated him, and his already hardened cock swelled against the fabric of his pants. Will stood to meet Jem, to trade him places, and as he cupped the boy close he felt him tremble. His nerves were greater than any fear he had ever known, but Will didn't need them to know Jem truly was pure. He was inexperienced and young, but he wasn't a foolish child. Seduction as simple as that wasn't something that often came natural, but for Jem it was a lesson he learned long ago. Simplicity. Modesty. And Moderation. For William sex had always been a rush of fierce need that often ended too soon, but now as he pressed the boy back on the bed and started his fingers around the hem of his pants he wanted to last forever.

"Are you sure?" Will asked breathing deeply as he dipped his hand beneath Jem's pants, and started to slowly pull them down. A kiss to his chest, the pull of the flower's soft petals made Jem rise off the bed with all the consent Will needed, and he positioned himself over him to tease of the skin that had never been kissed before.

Will ran his hands over the boy's pale flesh, kissing along the more sensitive areas until finally sliding his tongue over and around the boy's pink nipples that swelled in pleasure. Jem's head drew back as a small cry escaped him, and his back arched to meet William's kiss. He teased the little buds until they were wet, sucking until finally he drew back and the cold air hardened the skin and tightened the flesh around them.

As Will slid Jem's hem further down he followed the motion with the flower's end, the silken touch something he could never get used to, but seeing this young man…hearing him; it could be his undoing. For someone as petite as Jem, the boy's manhood stood long and proud, and made his own harden all over again. He feared of breaking the boy, feared that he couldn't keep his control, and felt the hot liquid of his own desire seep out as if to beg to take Jem. He felt the confines of the fabric of his pants suffocating, and as if Jem could read his mind he lifted to help him out. Will balanced his weight with on leg on the bed while slipping out of his pants, but the moment Jem wrapped his slender little hands around his cock he thought his whole body would give out.

Will's clients were about their own self-satisfaction and almost never worried of his own pleasurable pains. Far too often when they were finished they would leave him, and he would find his own release with images of Jem just like this flashing over his eyes. But never could he have prepared for how absolutely breath taking it was to see that content pleasurable expression that filled Jem's face with so much life. The boy's mouth was watering, wanting to taste of Will, wanting to suck him into submission, but he knew that the illness could even be spread there. However, still he pumped his hand up and down the length of his lover, and sat up to get a better grasp. His lips found Will's ear and with every stroke he stunned William into stone as the pleasure rocketed over his body. Every time his hand would fall, Jem would make a small little moaning sound, and when it would raise he would breath heavily in. Will knelt there powerlessly over Jem and clung to the boy's shoulders while his fingers sank into the other's flesh. His face fell forward, and the moisture of his captivity collected his hair in little curls around his face.

"James." He breathed Jem's name, his true name; the one his father had given him, and Jem knew he was close. He could feel the tension in the base of his cock as he road the pleasure all the way to the top, but Will wasn't ready to give in just yet. He drew back with one motion, and pressed Jem back with the next. The flower was discarded for now, falling against Jem's silver hair as it was spread out over the bedclothes.

William remembered the drapes, the sash of a beautiful deep orange red and moved to collect it. The silk was cold in his hands but warmed quickly as he brought it over Jem once more to tease him into reacting. He kissed the corners of his mouth, kissed his lips as if it were his last and whispered his name now, as it was his turn to receive. And with a single slide of his fingers he pumped Jem's cock until it too was pulsing with the clear warm pleasure that would coat his skin. He used the silk to soften his touch, and with every kiss he ran the length of Jem's shaft while tightening his grip the further he got to the base.

"Imagine I'm inside you…You are inside me." Will whispered as Jem lifted his hips to meet Will's hand. "Fucking you so deep. My entire cock swallowed by you, surrounded by you." Jem couldn't talk, he couldn't respond, but the images alone made him feel as though William was penetrating him. He could almost feel the thick head at his entrance wanting to sink in—begging to take him.

"Can you feel it?" William asked in a husky voice, his own cock throbbing, but he could easily pretend he was fucking Jem now. He could feel the boy tense around his length, and watching Jem squirm on the bed made it easy to realize that he was pleasuring him, as he deserved.

"I'm fucking you." God he wanted to, "Can you feel it?" Jem nodded, but couldn't speak. Will looked wild, his primeval urge to plow Jem's tight ass so overwhelming he had to find release, or he would put the boy's life at danger by his lack of control. However, just as he brought his fingers around the long length of his own cock Jem stopped him. He was frozen beneath William, but not of the sort that he was afraid. No, this was of the kind that brought them both down from the instant need of release, and of short bursts of pleasure that would only last a moment.

Will stopped his hand a moment, as Jem lifted off the bed to kiss him; to bring him back down, and the white haired youth wrapped his arms around William's neck to whisper.

"This is me loving you," His hand trailed down William's chest to find the boy's pleasure again_, "Can you feel it?"_ And with that all it would take was a simple series of slow, beautiful, elegant strokes and they both reached the end. The silk still separated their body, and caught their desire. The crimson color would forever be stained with the fruits of their passions, but just as any Lord would have his Lady it marked of a coming of age. William had taken from something Jem couldn't give to anyone else, and Jem had given himself in ways that he would never again. Technical standards he would forever be marked as 'untouched' as nothing of him had been plucked, but to Jem this was all he would ever need.

**Well? How was it?**

**Omg..I updated! Want to know why? Waking up today with 8 new alerts from: ****SecretlyANinja98**

**Thank you so much chica for letting me know people were still reading this, and how nice your words were. I hope you leave me another note, because I am totally dedicating this chapter to YOU!**

**Also, for those of you who don't follow me on Twitter or Tumblr, I lost my step father of 15 years over the last few weeks. So updates should be more regular now that my life can go back to order. **

**And if you are also wondering about Center of the Sun, it's nearly finished. I just have to write a certain scene which I hope to get out tomorrow. I hope you enjoyed this smut scene in this one, and it's totally inspired by the movie 40 Days and 40 Nights.**

**p.s. I totally know I've numbering the chapters wrong. I'm a dork. **


	9. Infected

****Adult Content: Bloody Things****

****Also totes not Beta'd, because I didn't want to pester Ky. But thanks to her anyway!****

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><p><strong>Tears from the Moon<strong>

**Chapter 8. Infected**

_Now here I go,_  
><em>Hope I don't break down,<em>  
><em>I won't take anything, I don't need anything,<em>  
><em>Don't want to exist, I can't persist,<em>  
><em>Please stop before I do it again,<em>  
><em>Just talk about nothing, let's talk about nothing,<em>  
><em>Let's talk about no one, please talk about no one, someone, anyone<em>

_You and me have a disease,_  
><em>You affect me, you infect me,<em>  
><em>I'm afflicted, you're addicted,<em>  
><em>You and me, you and me<em>

_I'm on the edge,_  
><em>Get against the wall,<em>  
><em>I'm so distracted,<em>  
><em>I love to strike you,<em>  
><em>Here's my confession,<em>  
><em>You learned your lesson,<em>  
><em>Stop me before I do it again<em>

_~Infected, Bad Religion _

**M**onths passed with winter blanketing the campus, and in the way the days shorter Jem didn't spend much time outside of his dorm. He made William a nice home there, and on days when he was his sickest Jem stayed right by his side. Desperation settled in them both wanting Will to survive, but it became an unsettled topic between them. Will didn't complain of the way he felt, and though he may not have liked being kept—he wouldn't refuse Jem anything. However, with the winter break close upon them, and his family wanting him home William wasn't looking forward to their time apart. He figured Jem would go home to China for the month long space between semesters, but they hadn't talked about it.

Jem didn't want to tell William he hadn't made plans to return home, nor did he wish to tell his mother he was too afraid to leave—afraid he'd never get to come back. They would not take the news well, but what if something happened to Will? What if he died between then and now? The blue eyed boy liked to pretend all was well, but Jem knew better—he was going to school for this. He knew the yellow beneath Will's fingernails was a sign of sickness, and the whites in his eyes were dull. When he coughed he stained his palms with a blood that surfaced from his lungs, but what hurt Jem the most; the way William cried in his sleep. He sobbed unspoken worries of letting him go, and at the same time painted the white roses of Jem's bedclothes—red.

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><p>"Jem," A voice called the youth back from his daydreams, his worries, and his fears. And suddenly he was very aware that the conversation he was holding with the Professor had grown silent, and his tea had gotten cold. A small flush filled the tops of his cheeks, and Jem looked down to mask his shame. How rude it must have been to not pay attention to Jean-Luc, and seated there across from his desk he wondered if he should give up his morning tea with such a man. He hardly felt he deserved it.<p>

"Forgive me Professor, I've not been sleeping well." The truth was always easier to admit than a lie, but he felt guilty with the confession just the same.

His mornings with this man were cherished, and in ways he couldn't explain. He loved Will, and knew he always would. But there was perhaps a little boy's dream of finding someone as tall, dark, and handsome Professor St. Laurence. Despite his uneven gate, and the obvious pain he harbored in his leg there was an air of perfection that even his limp couldn't take away. Jem cherished the coat he was given, even now seated across from the man who gave it, he held onto it like a force field. He loved the beautiful buttons, the high collar, and the way no matter how much he wore it—it still smelled like him.

Jean-Luc was a kind man, and one that perhaps should have just let Jem be. But there was a deep desire to protect him that even he couldn't explain. He wasn't a fool, and picked up on the relationship budding between Carstairs and Hereondale the moment William finally started sitting beside Jem in class. He noticed the looks passed between them like secret notes slipped in class, but he wouldn't dare comment. However, as he moved to warm the boy's tea with a bit more of the hot water, he wanted to know. He wanted to protect him if he was in trouble, but most of all he wanted to see him smile again.

"Is everything alright?" Came his question, soft and with warmth that only he could possess, and with that Jem took a deep breath.

"I don't know. I…" _I really can't tell you, not without betraying him. _"It's just that," Jem fidgeted in his seat nervously, "Well, Winter Break is coming. Soon." Very soon. "And I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't go home, but I can't stay here." With that he sighed, the air pushing his pale hair from his brow a moment.

"You can't go home?" The question was still soft, but what followed next was a little sterner, "Or you won't?" The statement wasn't a question of the truth, but very much pinning Jem where he sat in that sort of way he couldn't escape without answering.

"It's not that I won't as much as I don't want to." Finally, he gave in, and looked back at the Professor in defeat. Yet, still he stood his ground. "My mother of course wants me to, but I just feel in my bones if I leave I won't get to come back. She was so upset about the attack, and how unsafe it is here. I'm afraid she'll hold me captive and I'll never be able to return to England. And since it's her money that pays for school, I am at her mercy."

Jean-Luc smirked lightly knowing that was just as much the truth as Jem not wanting to leave Will. He overheard Jem arguing in his native tongue to his mother in the hall once on his phone. Chinese wasn't one of the romantic languages, but when Jem's sweet singsong voice spoke in the phone it was beautiful.

"You are aware that the dorms close during the holiday, and that the school shuts down. I know that a few students often rent rooms in the local towns, but by now… this late?" The Professor worried, but stopped when Jem shook his head.

"They are all full. I've tried." He slumped in his chair, curling the mug up closer to his chest, and when the clock tower outside started to announce the morning classes students started to trickle in. Jean-Luc suddenly felt as though the morning had slipped far too fast, and before he could word it in a more appropriate manner offered,

"So stay with me." Jem looked up at the man surprised, but couldn't take the smile from his face.

"Really?" A quiet moment of thought settled between them, and though the risk was great how could he deny this boy anything?

"Yes, but. We will have to keep it between us." With that he took out a small card and wrote down his address, and slipped it to the boy as he stood to clear their cups. Jem held the bit of paper to his chest a moment looking down at Jean-Luc now as if drawing warmth from the paper with the address.

"Thank you. I won't be any trouble. I promise."

"Its not you I'm worried about," The Professor's eyes settled behind Jem as Will stumbled through the door. His sunglasses still on his head, with his bedclothes beneath his coat, and even Jem looked surprised. He hadn't stayed the night last night, but he just assumed it was because he was studying late. But from the looks, Will hadn't slept at all.

Jem followed William to their normal seats, and so too did the rest of the class. The Professor took a few moments to allow them to settle, but stood to greet the class and prepare them for their lecture. However, just as he started to lure the class into the lesson a voice broke from the hall, and in walked a man that reminded Jem more of the bitter cold than any human could possess.

He was a tall man, one old enough to be his father, but even then looked as if he could break an arm like a twig. His long stern jaw was held defiant and displeased, but it wasn't until a pair of soldier's dressed in a dark gray with rifles poised and ready did even the Professor speak up.

"Valentine, what is the meaning of this?" Jean-Luc held his calm, despite how every student looked wide eyed at the soldiers. Jem knew the name, he was the president of the university, and took pride in the privately funded security that clearly was outfitted for war.

"In public, Jean-Luc, please refer to me in my proper title, and I'm in on a routine inspection Professor." Moving into the room the tall wrath of a man moved from the door to allow a few more men dressed in lab coats through.

"Inspection, Mr. President. Of what?" His dark eyes watched as more coats started to set up a small workstation right by the door. The entire ordeal had Jem's heart at his throat, and the air in his lungs closing. He knew. He knew what they were looking for. He had been careless in his research. They would have to know, and from under his desk he moved his hand to touch Will's leg. However, Will moved away from the touch, and lowered his sunglasses over his red-rimmed eyes.

"Infection, Professor. All I need is a little blood from every student, and you can continue on your class. It won't take long." The long workstation of the lecture hall was cleared of the Professor's notes, and a tray of vials placed out. Jean-Luc's face paled, further than the porcelain mask he already wore, and Jem thought for a moment that he truly was made of glass.

"I beg your pardon, but you can not walk in here and interrupt my class for something as Ludacris as this." With that Jean-Luc's long fingers curled around the edge of his cane as if prepared to use it as some sort of weapon on the vial creature, and Jem watched them panicked.

_Will…what about Will._ His heart pounded in his chest, as fast as a rabbits when he moved to get in the line that was forming. William stood before him stone-faced, and stiff.

"William," Jem whispered, "What are we going to do?" The bickering between the Professor and the school's President was faded now as all Jem could hear was his shaken breath and William's sigh,

"Nothing, Jem. _We _are not going to do anything. _I'm _going to be lined up with the rest of them and shot." He hissed without looking back at Jem, who he couldn't dare look at right now. The emotion and overwhelming guilt swelled in him, but he refused to let it show. He refused to let this get to him, but before he could move to possibly dart out the window—Jem brushed past his shoulders.

"You can't! Who do you think you are! You can't!" He moved through the lines like a rabbit bouncing as he went to be seen—heard over the sounds of the voices, and standing before Valentine now Jem had to strain his neck to even look the man in the eye.

Valentine upon closer inspection was as ugly as they came, yet handsome in his hateful ways. He had thin sinister eyes, with a long jaw that outlined his face, and his broad shoulders gave him a much stronger appearance this close than they did from his place in the line. The hatred there in his nearly black gaze made Jem feel as though he were three inches tall as they bore down on him like the night, and in this Jem realized he was exactly the opposite of Jean-Luc. Standing together they looked like a mighty force, but where the Professor wore his darkness like a beautiful cloak—Valentine wore it like a war.

"Start with this one." Valentine demanded taking the boy by the wrist and slamming it back on the table. Jem shouted while his pale little wrist was turned to accept the needle, but stopped his shouting when he felt those beautiful fingers, long and able, on his shoulder to soothe away.

_I have a plan, _they seemed to say with the touch of his palm, and when the Professor looked back in the line he realized a gunman was pointed at William, who clearly tried to escape the line to protect his heart.

"Be still, all of you. This will be over soon. No one here is infected you need not worry." Looking out on the rest of the class as they stood in line he realized his words were right. No one here seemed scared or shaken—not like Jem, whose outburst surprised him only long enough to put together that William was in fact positive.

Like a kitten mewling Jem whimpered as the needle plucked from his arm, and the vial placed in the tray with his number—not his name. Here in this horrid world they cared not for the name he was given—they were only numbers.

"Stand with me, Jem." The Professor extended his hand to accept him, and tucked him under his palm while the boy trembled. The silver shimmer of anticipation never worried of his own results, but his eyes never left Will. This was it. This was what would take him from this world. His body would be lined up in piles to be burned—ridding the world of the impure, and unclean. Jem so lost in his thoughts and worry didn't hear the drawer beside him open, he didn't realize the Professor slipped quietly a vial of blood from the confines of his desk—strange. Why would he…

Meeting Jean-Luc's eyes he realized without having to hear him speak it, the plan that his touch had promised. He would exchange them, one for the other, wouldn't he?

William took his turn, he offered his wrist that was already so used to the needles that made the drugs burn away the world, and his blood filled the glass like thick crimson paint; Jem's heart fell. He watched it, the vial, the entire length to which it traveled. Placed inside the tray with the rest, it could easily be mistaken with the rest, but he wouldn't let it go. He wouldn't let it be missed. Will's name wasn't on it, just his number, but the labels could be switched. He would have to be quick, the Professor would have to be very fast, and just as the thought crossed his mind one of the students started screaming—running for the door.

_Infected._

The distraction was all Jean-Luc needed, and like a wrath diving from the night he moved to make the switch. With only a few motions the vial was protected, the labels changed very swiftly, and before Jem could even blink he held within his hands the warm sample.

"Professor, may I use the restroom?" Jem asked, but Jean-Luc waited for the President to give the clear. And with a nod of his head Valentine would release him to leave, and Jem darted for the door. At first he moved with ease, passing rooms one by one where the students were lined up, and he tried hard to not meet the eyes of the ones captured. They were on their knees with their hands behind their head facing the wall with gunmen at their backs waiting to transport them to camps where the infected were shipped, but Jem couldn't think about that right now. His heart hurt from beating so fast, and without thinking he simply started running.

He ran so fast that his lungs burned from the cold air that hit his face as he moved along the sidewalk. He wanted to get the blood as far from the campass as he could, but just as he reached the courtyard the ice took him captive and launched his body forward.

In his mind the fall had taken eternity, but truly only a matter of seconds passed before the white blanketed walkway was painted red with William's blood. The glass shattered, and when he was thrown forward it cut deep—but the pain never came. He hadn't time to feel the cut burn, for all he could think of was the blood that was now on his hands, wasn't his own—it was William's.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong>

**Thanks to everyone who is still reading. Ninja you are the best. A special thanks to Ky, even though I didn't ask her to Beta this one. I know she will totes rip me in a review, buuuut I didn't want to bother you!**

**I'm still here and alive, just super busy. This chapter isn't my best no, but I needed this chapter to go up so it could set up part 2 in Center of the Sun. (Which will have an update soon too)**

**Thanks all!**


	10. They Shine For You

**Not Beta'd, but thanks to my Ky anyway! I think I killed her. She no answer any of her devices! ^.^**_  
><em>

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><p><em>Let me be the only one<em>

_To keep you from the cold_

_Now the floor of heaven is laid_

_The stars are bright as gold_

_They shine for you they shine for you_

_They burn for all to see_

_Come into these arms again_

_And set this spirit free_

_~Love Song for a Vampire, Annie Lennox_

_**J**__em very rarely attended anything social, and he sat alone during lunch. His dorm was not far from Alec's temporary suite, but they never ran into each other in the halls. He kept to himself, locked away each night alone until the morning came, and class would start. Alec could recognize his uniform as one of the medical students, and silently was proud of Jem's victory when given his white coat a year ahead of his class. He wasn't without reason to boast of his accomplishment, but Jem wore the medical cross on his sleeves with a humble pride. It wasn't until Alec's last week in the dorms did he ever hear another voice through the thin walls, and the concrete made it hard to understand what was being shouted. Jem was not alone._

_Alec moved to open his door to hear what sound did escape through the cracks under the door, but his heart jumped from his chest as Jem's door was flung open. A man much taller then both of them, with eyes as blue as his own, and hair the color of night pulsed down the hall in a heated fashion leaving Jem sobbing quietly behind the back of his hand in the doorframe. It was when Alec's eyes met Jem's did the other man press from his door and walked the short distance to the dorm's bathroom, the cries becoming coughs—violent ones, that Alec could not ignore. He followed in the wake of the retreating youth to find him bent over the sink before the grand mirror trying to choke back his tears in an attempt to calm his coughs._

_"Are you alright?" The young lord didn't know what to do, or what to say to make everything better. Yet still he took a few steps forward and slowly lifted his hand to touch the trembling shoulders of the other. "Here..let me help you."_

_"No." Jem stated firmly pulling away from Alec, "You must stay away." When Jem pulled his hand away the blood was so crimson against his white skin that it caused Alec to gasp. He was not cut, where had it come from? Jem quickly moved his hand to cover his mouth once more as another violent quake of coughs caused him to press his back against the wall for support. Alec didn't listen, and moved to help him, but the violence in Jem's words surprised him. "Stay away!" Jem screamed and Alec stopped, "You can't come near my blood." He cried the last words sinking along the wall until he his knees were able to be hugged to his chest, and now with his head between them Jem continued to sob. "Just..go."_

~Center of the Sun, Chapter 21. 20 Tears From The Moon

"**Stop** it!" Jem could hardly recognize his voice as he screamed at the top of his lungs, and tasted the salt on the edge of his lips from the tears that kept falling. "Don't say things like that! We'll work it out!" In the bathroom of the dorms his voice echoed over the tile, and carried down the hall like a chant as his heart broke.

"Jem this is stupid! What we have won't last! I'm sick, and will be dead soon. And you don't need this!" William fired back though his voice much quieter, and brooding in the way he tried to live in the heartbreak. He deserved this pain, but wasn't prepared on how badly it would hurt.

At first he hadn't noticed Jem's pale little hand when it touched his face, his own skin was so hot that he felt for certain he would burn through the boy's skin, and he snapped from his daze when he heard Jem's door close behind them. He felt the youth's sweet touch as if it were breaking a spell over him, and knew that what was to come next would hurt far worse than any bullet to his brain.

"William, I love y—"

"No." Just in the way Will spoke it, Jem knew that he wasn't going to allow the subject to die. He pressed back gently at first, but at the first sign of resistance he forced Jem's back to the wall. "No! I said no! You can't expect me to follow you anymore. Jem, this is bigger than we both are! I am going to die."

"I've been working with the Professor on a cure! You are not! I'm close! I'm so very close!" Jem snapped, his fists closing at his side, "I am going to cure you Will! I want to help!"

"I don't need your help, and especially from that fucking man! What is he doing in return hmm? Fucking you while I can't? Huh?" At that Will's words were a slap to his face, and Jem could no longer fight the tears that built up. Will fell apart on the inside as he watched Jem retreat from him, and wanted to fall to his knees to beg for forgiveness. However, somewhere he knew this was for the best. He couldn't let Jem risk his life anymore for a cure.

"Everything I've been doing has been for you, can't you see that?" Jem's voice broke over the edge of his quivering lips, and for a moment William's defenses crumbled, "You don't mean that." All Jem had to do was confess. He just had to tell Will that he was infected, but the words never came. The confession fell on dead lips as Will pulled the door open to slam down the halls, and walking from the one good thing left in his life.

Jem crumbled against the doorframe, the tears that he sobbed no longer seemed to matter as he could hardly breathe, and when he caught the eye of Alexander Lightwood the haunting blue of his eyes was torture. He hadn't realized they had an audience, and had he been in his right mind would have quickly apologized. Instantly he felt guilty for waking the young lord, but when the coughs took his body he couldn't speak.

The bathroom became his escape, and the mirrored sink his sanctuary as he expelled the demons of the illness in crimson stains on the beautiful tile.

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><p><strong>W<strong>inter came, and with it a silence that fell over the city that made Jem think that perhaps he was left behind. The Bells hadn't chimed in nearly three weeks, and he marked each day one more he spent without Will. The day after their fight, soldier's came, but the dorm was empty upon their arrival. Will was no where to be found, and added to the list of names that were never to be spoken again. However, there wasn't a second that passed his name wasn't whispered with every beat of Jem's heart.

_Will. Will. Will. William…_Where had he gone? Was he still alive? Was he warm? Somehow, Jem knew that if Will was out there he would survive, he didn't seem the sort that would simply lay down his life for nothing, and he carried that thought with him now everywhere he went.

"Jem." The Professor spoke gently from his seat across the boy in the Rolls Royce Phantom that chauffeured him from one place to the next, and could hardly stand to see the sight. He told Jem to pack his most precious belongings, and to leave the rest; that he would be well provided for. But in the way that the sleep deprived youth clutched the small suitcase to his chest he wondered if that was truly all he had left in the world. Jem looked so tired, and broken. He looked paler than normal, and the dark circles under his eyes only presented him further proof of an underlining diagnoses that he was starting to piece together. "What's wrong?"

Just in the way Jean-Luc asked made Jem wonder how badly he must have looked. The sound of the other man's voice was half filled with fear while one part concerned, and the rest protective. He hated that he jumped at the break in the silence, and only clutched his suitcase tighter to his chest,

"I'm tired, Professor. I've not been sleeping well. And…" With his chin falling to the top of the leather square he wanted so badly to confess of his concern, and of the illness. But how could he? How could he dare make this man already fear further of his well being? He was already so in debt to the man, and already worried him enough. "Well, I…"

His attention was stolen from him when the car stopped outside of a large cast iron gate that spiraled up towards the sky in a beautiful lace designs, and opened with the very presence of the car. But what truly caused Jem's mouth to part in a gasp was the estate seated behind it like some sort of old gothic castle. Tall stone statues of various beasts decorated the lawn, and old ivy pillars complimented the front doors.

"You don't live here do you?" Jem asked with his bright eyes shifting from the grand estate to the Professor who smiled lightly with the sight, and his beautiful hand perched on the cane as if they were in a horse drawn carriage. He looked as always like some royal King, and Jem wasn't a fool. You didn't have a home like this on a Professor's salary. However, he quelled the questions that raced to his lips, and would let the Professor answer the driver who spoke in French.

"It is a family estate, _Ma Petit, _One that has been of St. Laurence for hundreds of years." Just in the way he answered Jem wondered if Jean-Luc had somehow had always been part of the grand design, and in many ways…part of this home. Everything about him screamed of a soul older than half the trees, and he possessed a timeless grace like that he has never known. Yet, people couldn't live forever could they? They all had to fade sometime; Jem worried he had already missed William's passing.

"Jem?" Jean-Luc spoke once more as the car pulled to a stop, and the driver came around to open the door.

"Professor?"

"You are crying." Jem hadn't realized that he started, or that the tear that chased down his porcelain skin wasn't the first. All he could think about was going inside that castle and exploring it like a child. He needed this break, more than he ever realized, but what he truly didn't realize he needed the most was the man who looked far to common perched on the edge of his seat with concern.

"I'm just really tired, and overwhelmed." Lowering his eyes his cheeks flushed with color as he realized there was an audience outside waiting the return of the Professor, the entire household staff were all lined up to welcome home their master. "There are so many people." He whispered, quickly trying to dry his eyes, and Jean-Luc gave a small laugh.

"Yes, there are. And it is cold outside. Come, they are waiting to meet you." The driver opened the door and cold bitter wind tore inside the cab like a wave, but Jem hardly had time to feel it. The numbness that came with heartache truly made Jem realize suffered a greater fate, and he worried he would ever recover. But, when the Professor mentioned the staff anxious to see him, he thought it to be a jest. No body waited to meet him, they were there for their master, but when Jean-Luc offered his hand to help him out he felt warm all over with all the smiling faces.

_They shine for you._

There was a person for everything, a man to take his suitcase, a woman to draw his scarf further around his shoulders, and a pair of beautiful faces to tend to every desire he would want. And just for a moment…a small fleeting moment he felt like a prince, and fought back a giggle.

"Oh no I can carry it," Jem replied sheepishly. He wouldn't allow someone else to wait on him like this! It just wasn't right, but when the young boy looked up to Jean-Luc for an answer Jem wanted to let it go. Was that fear written on his young brow? Fear of failure to serve as hired to do so? Jean-Luc laughed, and squeezed Jem's shoulder.

"Let him have it, he will not take it far. Just to your room they have all been busy preparing." Jem truly felt that he had traveled back in time, when Queens and Kings were treated with such respect, but one didn't have to have a crown to wear the title. As they passed the whole staff welcomed him, and their master home. But it wasn't until they were inside did Jem have the chance to actually be approached.

"Look at him, Jean-Luc." A woman's voice spoke, her old and wrinkled face strained to make out the youthful figure of the young chap on the Professor's arm. "Oh you're a sight aint ya?" Oh, how he wanted to shy away in the crook of the other man's arm from her outreached hands, but with a smile he let her steal him away. "Give us a turn hmm?"

"A turn, Madame?" She was something, he could tell. Her nearly blind eyes, and kind wrinkled face let him know she was well beyond her years. She smelled of peppermint and spices, and when she slowly closed the distance between them he thought for certain she was staring straight into his soul.

"Oh my," She whispered, and Jem looked up at Jean-Luc as if something were wrong. The old hag quickly turned Jem's palm over to start reading the lines there like map.

"Mim. This is the young Master James Carstairs, the exchange student from China, Jem. This is the Mad Madame Mim. She will be in charge of your stay, and over see all of your needs."

"There is a storm brewing Professor." Mim spoke out of no where, "A blizzard, you should send the staff to prepare." Though the wind outside was rough, it didn't warrant alarm, or so Jem thought. But Jean-Luc didn't take her request lightly, and excused himself.

"Mim will show you to your room, and we'll have dinner soon." Was all the tall Frenchman would say he exited the foyer with his own set of staff members. And for the first time since he stepped foot in the grand old estate Jem got a good look around. He wanted to laugh at how beautiful it was, how much he thought he must have been in a dream. Places like this were museums now with their tall painted ceilings, and ivory stairs with hand painted carpets. From the ceiling a grand chandelier burned brightly, and from what he could tell it was still from candles inside hurricane glass. The long halls stretched like any other palace, and the paintings on the walls were old yet familiar. All of the men in the oil on canvas looked as though they were related to the Professor at first glance. His room was behind a double set of oak doors, and could have been taken right out of an old Victorian magazine.

"This…this is my room?" Jem asked her with an air of bewilderment? All of this space for one little person? The bed itself could have kept his entire family, and he flushed at the thought. Jem ran a hand over the smooth covers, and longed to be beneath them. He could almost feel the warmth radiating from the thick wool blankets and quilts, and just as he started to finger the edge of the sheets Mim's voice broke the silence.

"Go ahead boy. Climb on up. Take off your shoes. A dressing gown is in the drawer there. You look tired, and you are cold. I can tell."

"I am," Jem whispered, "But I'm trying to remain humble." The old woman smiled as she closed the distance between them, and gave his cheek a small pat,

"Don't you worry about that here, son. Welcome home." And with that she left him. The entire busy world of the St. Laurence estate silenced behind the oak doors, and Jem gave the room a once over. There was a long window with a balcony, the sort that he knew from stories like Peter Pan. He wondered if Neverland was truly outside that little hatch, and just as the wind pressed against the panes he thought for a moment he saw a shadow on the railing.

"Hello?" Jem called out, but when he drew back the curtains there wasn't anyone there. The only thing that remained was a small porcelain pot with a few of his orchids.

_Will…_

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><p><em><strong>AN:**_

**So I've heard they are pulling down a few M. Rated stories, and if they do by god I'm taking Center of the Sun changing names and publishing that thing. Hoo-rah. ^.^**

**Thanks everyone for being so understanding, and for Alexa-Hallywell's review that helped me finish this chapter at work. It's not my best, but I have a lot of drama right now going on around my child. Those of you that are close know what is going on, but if you don't know that I'm suffering greatly. But it will all work out in the end! I have faith. **

**3**


	11. A Ghost of Who I Used To Be

**A/N: Lemon in the next Chapter (two actually...sorta, one good one bad) Review this one and get it faster! Not beta'd. Too tired to send to Ky. Give her my love.**

_**Quick recap: Will and Jem **_**_separated due to break and Will being found out. Jem has been staying with Professor St. Laurence now, and Jean-Luc has kept the boy close; especially after the whole scary run in with the law at school and the infection..._**

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><p><strong>Tears From the Moon<strong>

**Chapter 10. Draw Your Sword**

This house is cold and empty  
>Just a ghost of who I used to be<br>Staring my own reflection  
>Wonder if it even recognize me<p>

Last night I heard you whisper  
>Everything is fine cause I am here<br>I am here  
>Last night I saw your shadow<br>But when I called your name you disappeared  
>You disappeared<p>

_~Broken, by Trifonic_

**"H**e's still asleep…" A haunted whisper drifted beneath the crack of the old oak door that caged in his bedchamber, and the light that passed beneath it nearly as foreign as the voice on the other side. Jem, had been there for days or so it felt, wrapped in his ribbon of glass and holding onto his sanity much the same. He was afraid to move, afraid to speak, and afraid to open his eyes in fear the fever would get the better of him. He'd confessed to a headache during lunch, politely refusing his tray when it was brought to him, and remaining captive to the massive bed that felt more like a prison. The many layers of covers like the surface of the ocean, while his body lay beneath the sea, but even here he could not breathe.

Winter break had been kind, kinder than he had ever imagined, and Jem would never forget the affection that had been bestowed upon him. He wanted of nothing, and only had to reach out his hand to find the steady helpful fingers of his Professor, or those that held the beautiful man together. Jean-Luc's staff was amazing, a multi-cultural array of different backgrounds and different diversities, and Jem quietly wondered if Jean-Luc himself had gone to every country in the world to hand pick each one. The little silver haired student spent time getting to know each and every one, and memorized every detail. He knew their name, the name of their family—their children—their pets, and asked about them often. Jem became one of them, though he was a guest in this fairy tale world, he felt more like family and was treated just the same. Laughter, musical and captivating lit up the estate in ways that nearly had been forgotten, and Jem mastered the art of bringing life to this beautiful palace that at first seemed a tomb.

The estate itself reminded him of something he only knew it movies or books in leather bindings, full of hidden rooms and secret passages; the sort that led to private chambers and even darker shadows. There was an underground connection to the city, for when enemies invaded but it they were mostly closed off—or so he was told. The windows stretched from floor to ceiling like fortresses of glass, and filled the rooms with light unlike anything he had ever seen. When the sun set each night on the dreary winter horizon it warmed the gold in the carpets until their woven designs became like little rays of warmth beneath his bare feet.

He loved it here.

However, when the fevers came that all faded away, and now huddled beneath the blankets all he could do was dream of dancing again.

"I'm really getting worried about him," The voice came again this time much closer, and when he felt the warm, kind, hands he knew to whom they belonged.

Jem did not need to part his eyes to know who would be there when he woke, nor did he even need to speak his name, but he forced himself to regain his grasp on reality and carefully chose his words.

"It is just a headache," He lied closing his fingers around the Professor's hand, and squeezing gently. Jem didn't wish to look at him, he couldn't bare to witness the concern that deepened the lines around the older man's eyes, nor see the way his skin grew pale at the thought of his health failing, "I am actually feeling much better now."

Jem felt the bed beside him shift to support the older man's weight, and when he turned his wrist over Jean-Luc pressed two fingers to feel his pulse. Color filled the young student's cheeks, and when the Professor asked him to sit up he dare not refuse.

Mim, the old housekeeper, fluffed his pillows—a task he would never get used to but secretly enjoyed. It made it easier for him to see that the world had gone on without him, and now the hour well within the evening Jem was embarrassed to admit that he'd slept this entire time.

"You really don't need to do this, I really am fine." His thin mouth curved into a frown as he watched the Professor pull out the stethoscope from his medical bag and place it around his neck only to order him to lean forward. At the first sign of his next protest Mim spoke up to silence him, and Jem was quick to listen.

"Just let him take a look ok? He won't enjoy the party if he doesn't." Her voice was on the borderline of a severe serious tone and a deep concern, but her kind old eyes gave proof that she was just trying to comfort him. She mothered him, far more than even she realized. However, Jem turned a puzzled look to Jean-Luc, and it was then he noticed that the normally handsome man was made up like a King.

From the high collar to the gold detailed lapels, everything about the other man's suit made him look like some sort of Duke or Stately Lord, and Jem's heart sank. _The King's Ball..._was it Christmas Eve already? It couldn't be...it just couldn't! A pale little hand came to touch his face as he realized his mistake and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, and all the while his eyes threatened tears he could not explain.

"Oh, Jean-Luc, I forgot..." He said with a breathless gasp as he touched his forehead, shoulders trembling, and let his face fall forward until his strands of spider silk hair fell over his brow in an attempt to mask his shame. "I'm so embarrassed," Jem's confession came with his apologetic plea that was quickly put aside by kind warm words.

"James, it's fine. You can not help when headaches plague you," Jean-Luc's voice sounded as much as a lie as his own, but when he helped the boy back he turned to Mim with much conviction.

"I will not have him bothered, I want the entire wing sealed off, and Jem to be given free reign of it all. Alert the staff that I will not have a single soul step up those stairs to this side of the estate while I am gone. They are not to bother him, and only come if that bell is ringing." He didn't need to motion to the string that would call the boy's caretakers as it was there like every other weight of Jean-Luc's wealth and financial stability—like puppets there were men attached to those strings, and when those bells turned over one by one—every demand was fulfilled.

"I would like for our guest to have a good nights rest, and to be left alone to do just that." Mim didn't need to say anything, but she did smile at the both of them as she moved to follow the Professor's command. The air was cold from the hall, and Jem shivered as the draft hit him. However, when he returned his attention to the decadent man at his side, Jem inhaled sharply and the pointed glare—the anger and passionate fires that lapped at the dark man's coal black eyes until they were nothing but burning embers.

Jean-Luc could say nothing and would not dare betray the truth of what he felt, instead he followed in the wake of the woman leaving behind his own desperation and despair. Jem worried he had figured out the truth, and though it was the most likely explanation for obvious struggle between Jean-Luc's emotions, Jem worried the Professor was angry he'd been too sick to accompany him to the party.

With a heavy sigh and a hand to his forehead to help quell the pain, Jem worked up the strength to find his way into his bathroom to attempt getting cleaned up. He would feel better after a long bath, and would worry over ways to please that man once more. Jem couldn't stand being the subject of his wrath.

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><p><strong>Short I know. Pardon the mistakes. Review please! I'd love to know if you are still with me. Plus it pushes me for the next chapter which has TWO lemons. One good...one heartbreaking. Poor Will, I feel so sad for you. <strong>

**Also my twitter is the same as my username here, follow me I always follow back!**


	12. Not So Strong Without Those Open Arms

**Warning: Adult Content**

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><p><strong>Tears From The Moon<strong>

**Chapter 11. Not So Strong Without Those Open Arms**

_I was feeling sad,_

_Can't help looking back_

_Highways flew by..._

_Run, run, run away_

_No sense of time_

_I'd like you to stay,_

_Want to keep you inside_

_Run, run, run away_

_Lost, lost, lost my mind_

_(I'd) like you to stay_

_Want you to be my prize_

_Run, run, run away_

_Lost, lost, lost my mind_

_(I'd) like you to stay_

_Want you to be my prize_

_I was feeling sad_

_Can't help looking back_

_Highways flew by..._

_Run, run, run away_

_No sense of time_

_(I'd) like you to stay_

_Want keep you inside_

_All along, not so strong without these open arms_

_Hold on tight_

_All along, not that strong without these open arms_

_Lie beside_

_All along, not so strong without these open arms_

_Ride beside_

_Run, run, run away_

_Lost, lost, lost my mind_

_Like you to stay_

_Want you to be my prize_

_~Runaway, Yeah Yeah Yeahs_

**T**he pulse of the Underground beat through the city like a disease, infecting everything, and funding a revolution that would rise above the ash only to burn it all to the ground. Often he felt his heart swell with the pride that came with knowing that the world would change in the palm of his hand, the blood of his blood, and with every sacrifice he would be draw closer to the end. Yet, with the hands of this stranger at his neck, his body broken and bent over he had never felt closer to death. The longing enough to see right through him, to ghosts of the past passing from one body to the next, but the invasion of this man's prick reminded him how real he was.

"You like that?" The man's voice rasped as he pounded into him, again and again his body invaded by one last stranger's desire, and his own stupid need to eat. Food was scarce now that their outposts were lost in the last battle, and every day more and more forces came down on their ranks until the rebellion was forced underground. Down in the bowels of hell, the waterways of waste became a greater castle than they could ever imagine, a fortress carved beneath the city where all of the refugees could be free at last, but life in the dark was proving harder than even he could stand.

Magnus took to his role like a king, endlessly commanding of his people out of respect and desire to see their kind flourish again. No one should ever be condemned to death for simple things like love and religion. Rumor had it, Bane had once been one of them, his bloodline as pure as the Lightwood's, but after his parents caught him in the arms of another man he was tossed to the streets. However, it was hard to tell accept the truth, especially when there was so much falsehood in the damnation of the less pure.

_There is nothing wrong with me._

William gritted his teeth as he felt the man slam into him again, his motions more stiff than before, his breath ragged in the nature of his end, and with one final forceful plunge forward he felt the man fill him. Will fisted the sheets as the weight of the overstuffed fool became too much and cried out in protest.

"God you're good," The man panted, his voice like nails down a chalkboard, and with a final slap to William's backside he pulled from him. As the stranger started to gather himself, William did his best to keep his anger in check, but as the fool went on to try and make small talk it took every ounce of his control not to kill him where he stood.

"Got nuffin' to say, boy?" The stuffed pig's shadow fell over him, and he felt it like a cold front as it stole the warmth from the horizon, "Well at least you didn't call me Jem this time." The bit of cash landed on William's naked body, but it was the man's laughter that was the true insult.

Will stared bullets through the man's shadow on the wall, as if he would rise up and burn him down at any moment. The hatred he felt for the pig-faced Seatholder in the House of Lords made him sick with the desire for the infection to spread faster, and in that little bit of hope Will turned to his back to lift up on his elbows and glare at the man.

"How's the wife and children?" Like poison, Will's voice parted from his lips, but the fool hardly seemed phased by it.

"Well enough," He answered as he laced up his shoe, "Stupid Bitch is waiting for me to die any day. Told her the men in my family live longer than the women," When the fat fool bent forward Will could see the small red marks on the base of his spine; A tale-tell sign of the disease that caused his lips to curl into a devious smirk.

Dressed now the man came to say his good-byes, and stood over Will like he owned him. His chubby hand came to touch the boy's throat, tip his head back in one last wanting kiss, but the moment Will made motion to refuse the man tightened his hand around William's throat,

"Next time. Fight me more, you little shit. I like it when you protest," And with that he was gone, slipping out of the room like a slug over salt, and William could not be free from this room fast enough.

* * *

><p><strong><em>St. Laurence Estate, London<em>**

**V**oices, trailed through the halls—the vast empty vaulted ceilings acting as frozen caverns as they returned the echo of his little footfalls; his heart against his ribs, Jem had managed a bath. The warm water bringing life back to the pale nature of his skin, and the pink color made his face seem flush with a lover's flame. The staff always found it incredibly endearing, but tonight they all looked at him with great concern.

A month ago the clothes that the Professor had tailored for him had fit, but now they hung off of him like a phantom wraith. His hair still damp smelled like honey and vanilla, the soaps his favorite, and relaxed him in ways nothing else could. Never had he ever lived in such luxury, where there was a hand simply waiting to tend to every need, and a man that was as kind as any shepherd to lead the lost lamb back home.

Jem felt so guilty for not going with him, he knew that the Professor was looking forward to introducing him to the close circle of his friends, and as he now padded down the hall he thought of turning around to race and get dressed. However, upon reaching the top of the grand staircase the world started to spin again, but the fever had long since passed.

The Professor stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, struggling to do a very mundane task, and Jem had to remind himself Jean-Luc sent all the help home. Jean-Luc was dressed like some sixteenth century French King with an over detailed waistcoat cut perfectly for his long, slender figure. The buttons were made of a fine yellow gold while the rest of his coat was trimmed with rich bronze thread-work that gave him the heir of any stately lord, and though it was only a costume Jem wondered if perhaps Jean-Luc had owned it in a past life. He seemed to belong to the era when there were celebrations like this, and the French had kings.

Jem pressed from his perch on the stairs, and his bare feet moved over the beautiful hand painted carpet until he stood over the white marble next to the other man. around. His steps as silent as ever, but he hadn't startled the beautiful man before him. Jean-Luc had this uncanny way of knowing that he was close, knowing of his needs long before he ever spoke them, even when he kept them to himself.

"Will you be gone all night?" Jem asked watching the Professor struggle with his ascot in the finely decorated mirror vanity of the great room.

"I…No, I will be back around midnight," The Professor's words were as cold as the winter night, and Jem could swear he felt the man ice over. His whole body went still, and even his skin felt as though it was made of stone. It made the touch endearing, the way Jem's gentle fingers came across his wrists to still his useless efforts. A thousand times Jean-Luc tied his scarves, but tonight the tie simply wouldn't do. Tonight, he knew the event was different, everything had changed—he knew that fever, and it broke him to think of Jem infected.

"I will not wait for you then," Jem's soft voice slipped over his warm lips, and his silver eyes smiled up at the other man, who visibly relaxed for a half a heartbeat.

"You still look tired," Jean-Luc's voice sounded lost, absolutely without reason to believe that the sun had ever existed, and as broken as his pureblood breeding would allow. He had been brought up by the hands of Lords and Ladies, fed from the fingers of Kings, but most of all hardened just like everyone by the forsaken war. Fragile things were so rare, easy to ruin, easier to destroy, and Jem was just that.

"I am," Came the reply, as quiet as ever, but he refused to allow his smile to fade. Just like half the nation, Jem learned to adapt long ago, and he too wore a mask. Though, he figured he could not hide his condition forever, he hoped that it would allow him to stay here just a little longer—long enough to get the cure for Will. "It's just a cold," He lied, finding himself sick at how easy it was to do, "I'll be good as new by morning, and I—" Jem went on to apologize for now being able to go, but his chin was caught by the tips of the Professor's fingers and his face tilted up. His breath, stolen a moment, came in quick little rushes as he felt his face flush with warmth at being so intimately touched.

Jean-Luc wanted nothing more than to force the truth from him, to feel force the youth to admit it was more, but for now he let it go. He worried that if Jem found out that he knew, he would run, and in that little lapse of judgement he did his best to keep the truth at bay.

"Your fever has broke," The Professor's voice boomed, a half command as his eyes darted to the lights in the driveway; his driver's figure through the window, and with that he released Jem's chin to step into the coat that now waited for him. "I expect you to get some rest, James, and to eat something." His voice was dry again, without emotion and calloused like this Jem was almost afraid to ever defy him.

"I..I will. I'll eat, and I'll go right back to bed. I just wanted to say good-bye, and to have a—" He couldn't finish the rest, as the Professor was gone. Without so much as a second glance he left out into the night. Swept away by the winter wind that had once frozen his blood, and it left Jem feeling as empty as the great hall to which he stood. All that remained was the vacant sound of the professor's cane on the walk way, and his retreating steps.

"To have a good time," He finished to himself, and watched from the windows as the car drove away. Jem hadn't realized his eyes had filled with water until they started to strain and he blinked away the tears, but when he turned to go back up the stairs he had trouble seeing the carpet for the way they blurred with emotions. Half way up the stairs he let a little sniffle go, instantly regretting his actions. Was it too much? Should he have never touched him? He should have gone. He should have—

_"What a prude…" _Came a voice in the hall, and Jem at first shrugged it off as being one of the servants but then remembered they had all gone home. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind a memory had his heart start racing. The figure in the dark looked as haunted as the paintings with their eerie eyes that followed, and vacant expressions. However, when he stepped from the light Jem's heart leapt from his chest.

"William!" He didn't care if there were still hard feelings between them he closed the distance and leapt into the other boy's arms, and refused to let go.

_All along, not so strong without these open arms_

_Hold on tight_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**So I know I promised two Lemons this chapter, but the length got away from me. It's sooooo long. (no pun intended) The next one is in the chapter after. It's pretty precious. Also please excuse any mistakes. I'm tired and hungry and ready to just get this up. **

**I love you all so much, and sure do miss you. I have Center of the Sun Part 2 about ready to start. I'm calling it A Ruin of Stars. (thanks Ky) Keeping with the theme of objects in the sky! 3 I have my writing mojo back finally, and am taking steps towards publishing! **

**Also in my profile there is a picture of Jean-Luc that I had painted. I'm SOOOO in love. If you search on Deviant Art: Jean-Luc St. Laurence you shall see him there too, and the amazing artist. She's done a few for me already for other writing projects and this one. **

**I'd love some feedback, just to see if you are still reading. PLEASE review. I'll LOVE You forever, AND find me on twitter: StarryOwlEyes, let me know you came from here and I'll follow back.**


	13. Metal and Dust

**_**warning chapter contains adult content, but at this point are you really surprised?**_**

**Chapter 12. Metal and Dust **

_And so, you built a life on trust_  
><em>Though it starts, with love and lust<em>  
><em>And when your house, begins to rust<em>  
><em>Oh, it's just, metal and dust<em>

_We argue, we don't fight_  
><em>We argue, we don't fight<em>

_And all foundation that we made_  
><em>Built to last, they disintegrate<em>  
><em>And when your house begins to rust<em>  
><em>Oh, it's just, metal and dust<em>

_We argue, we don't fight_  
><em>Stay awake in the middle of the night<em>

_~London Grammar, Metal & Rust_

**"W**here have you been?" The little sound of his voice made William's heart break as Jem held him and buried his face into his neck. He wanted nothing more than to take away that ache, to go back and change what it was he had done; and have left on better terms—told him where it was he was going, and leave him with a promise that he would return. But true soldiers knew better than to make promises they could not keep, and in the face of a war the unrest of the city was enough to shake him free from the stupid idea of loyalty. Jem was better off without him, protected now by raven wings, but Will had given in to his weakness. All he wanted was one more night, one more chance to see those silver eyes blink up at him, and he quickly touched Jem's cheeks to chase away the tears that fell like rain.

"I've not been far," Will brushed his thumb along the corners of Jem's mouth, feeling the warmth of his breath like a second chance, and wanting of him as he never had before.

"I've been so worried, William, you can't do this to me," Jem held onto the other as though he knew that Will was drowning. They both treaded water so carefully, keeping the surface just at their chest hoping to not be swallowed whole, but Jem knew that William was tired—he could feel it in his bones. And where he had been holding onto him, Jem now held him up as the ice around him started to thaw, and the pain set in.

"I'm…I…s-sorry," Will's teeth chattered and he blinked in attempt to clear his blurry vision and stay upright, but his futile attempts failed him and the last thing he could remember was strong little hands and a distant voice calling out his name.

* * *

><p>Great halls were meant for gatherings as this, parties that were fit for any queen and where men sat at the edges of tables like kings. Jean-Luc had grown up in an era as this, knowing only the formal manners of those around him and of the very regimented formalities of how to properly conduct oneself as though bred to only ever attend events. From the formal dining hall to the great ballroom London's material wealth flashed like brilliant stars, each one brighter than the next and forming a powerful night sky for all to see. Lords, Ladies, and the Royal Family celebrated the birth of a savior by flashing false smiles and forgetting for one night that outside the golden gates there was a war washing up on a sea of blood. This was not the first time that London had known such violence, but with the rest of the world starving it was in their best interest to deal with the civil uprising quickly.<p>

_It won't be long before we smoke them out, we found one of their hideouts. Rebel scum._

"I grow tired of this talk, Jean-Luc," The woman to whom he'd escorted whined at the edge of his hem, her hand resting in a place that just a few hour ago Jem had touched and he hated her for it. His dark eyes, soulless and sinister shifted so that she could not read them, but knew enough to be still. There was much more to the Professor than he let on, but it didn't take those intimate with him to know. He was a brilliant man, but was getting careless in his desperation and affection of the little silver haired student.

"I need a drink, come find me when you are done with your cabbages and kings," _And while the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings. (~Louis Carol) _Jean-Luc knew that he should have cared a little more that his date was upset, that she was parted from him with such a heavy sigh, but he could not bring himself to leave the conversation. He knew that at any moment he would be asked of his opinion, and though the university has been under lots of pressure in the media he knew that an educators opinion during times of crisis was always welcome. If only for a moment, he could fool himself into thinking that a diplomatic truce would come from this—if only he could get his grace to listen.

"We will strike at dawn, and force those bastards right out. They can't hide forever. We have already cut off their supplies and without the proper medicine to treat the wounded, well I dare say it won't be long before we are rid of them, and if we don't do it. God will." a fat bellied man spoke with such conviction that one would think he had the answer to the war there in his fat grubby hands.

"I did not think God chose a side during civil wars, Lord Bryant," Jean-Luc spoke unable to stop himself, and standing just a few shoulders down from the lord in question while those around him parted as if they were the very fingers of God almighty parting the Red Sea. A few little gasps bulked at the nerve of the man to question such a noble and steadfast authority.

"Well he may not normally, Professor, but this time he has. All of those rebel bastards are dying one by one with the infection, and even I can't take credit for that. Soon all of England will be free from such scum, think of it—an England free of homosexuals, a world without Muslim barbarians, and savage sinners. I raise a glass to that!" And around him the crystal chimed like church bells, and thankfully his gloved hands were without a glass. Instead, his fingers tightened around the head of his cane, wanting nothing more than to run the silver clad tip through the barrel of this fools chest. Venomous words held to his tongue like poison and the more he stood there, the closer he came to spitting them in the eyes of who dare speak such ignorant folly. However, no matter how unsettled he may have been on the inside, Jean-Luc stood the very picture of pride with his shoulders square and everything in place, and had it not been for this he may have missed the flash of eyes that mirrored his own.

The only difference being his did not have the clear catlike distinction, and burned like amber fire.

* * *

><p>"Perhaps we should call the Professor home," A woman's voice soft and gentle filtered in through his fitful dreams, but William couldn't recognize it. The pain he knew, the cold as well, but when he felt the needle enter his skin he didn't dare fight against it. Perhaps, it was just all a dream too because the voice that came next was as welcome as a spring day.<p>

"No, I would not worry him. I can handle this," The transformation that the little maid saw in Jem was uncanny and she wished the rest of the staff was here to see it. He truly was in his element. Jem rolled back his sleeves and went to work on the boy as though medicine truly was his second nature, and started to work on getting blood samples. "He's exhausted and dehydrated but the IV will kick in soon, and it would probably do us both some good to have something to eat?" The little mouse of a woman bobbed her head and scurried down into the kitchen, after she watched Jem draw a bit of blood from the fallen.

Holding the vial up to the light Jem hadn't noticed that blue eyes had opened and watched him with a warm affection that came with wicked amusement. Will knew that if he drew attention to himself now the vial would be dropped in Jem's surprised state, but he couldn't help the desire to reach out and touch the young man who he dreamed of so often. His clothes had been changed, his skin felt cleaner than it had in weeks, and Will could tell that his hair was still damp.

"Looking for ways to clone me Gin?" The pet name one he worried he would never get to use again, and when Jem scrunched his nose at the sound of it Will knew it had the same affect as it did that very first time they met,

* * *

><p><em>"You Jean?" The stranger asked, and somewhere Jem prayed this wasn't the student who was going to take him to the University. He would rather walk.<em>

_"Jian." Jem corrected him, looking for any sort of badge or ID to confirm the other man's identity. They were supposed to send another student, not James Dean. Regardless, the platform was starting to empty, and they were suddenly alone. "Are you, Mr. Herondale?" Jem fumbled for the paper that had been the only instructions they had given him._

_"Gin?" The youth cracked his lips in a small cat like smirk, and Jem could tell he was biting back laughter, "Like the drink?" His thin fingers came to remove the cigarette from his lips, taking a long drag before the smoke spilled from his lips like water. Jem wrinkled his nose in disgust and fanned his face to break apart the fog._

_"No..Ji-an, James if you can't say it."_

…

_They walked a little further in silence, Jem with his suitcase, and Will smoking his cigarette. It wouldn't be until they exited the train station into the almost empty streets, and Will made his way over to an old rusty motorbike that was older then both of them combined did start his protest._

_"Where is your car?" He asked looking the old motorbike over with a look of terror, and when Will straddled the seat of the old Vintage Royal Endield all the color from his face paled. "This is not funny." He clutched the suitcase again to his chest while Will set back on the seat, "I am not getting on that rusty thing."_

_"You chicken?" Will slurred, pulling the blunt of his smoke between his fingers to take the final drag, "She's from World War II, Jin." As if history somehow made it better, "She doesn't take much gas, and is sturdier then she looks."_

_~Chapter 2_

* * *

><p>"Oh no," Jem smiled coming to the bedside after the vial's of Will's blood were safe in the tray, "I think the world could not handle two of you." His pale fingers came to brush the bruised hand of the other and his thumb brushed along Will's knuckles, "Get into a fight recently?" He asked with a tentative desire for the truth, half of him didn't want to know. Jem liked to pretend that Will wasn't out there on the streets, that somehow he'd gotten to go back home.<p>

"When am I not in a fight?" Through his weakened state Will was still able to crack a smile, the half grin that made Jem want to confess every sin just so he could start on a new one, and for a moment Jem wanted to pretend that everything was alright. Most of those bruises he could recognize as typical William Herondale battle scars, but a few around his neck and down the base of his spine worried Jem more than he cared to admit. However, for now he could set them aside and just enjoy the time they had together.

"Please take this thing out of me," Will lifted his hand with the IV port, but Jem shook his head. "Jem please…it's bad enough I'm here on your cloud, intruding on your kept boy lifestyle, and have you tending to me like a fair maiden." He regretted the words the moment he said them as he felt silver eyes grow cold, and the little medic was quick to find a pressure point in his wrist that made him squeal like a child.

"I am not, a kept boy!" Jem hissed at the other man wanting nothing more than to make William eat those words. "I am a guest in the house of a Professor who has been nothing but kind to me. Do not be cruel, especially when you left without so much as even saying good-bye." He was getting hysterical and he knew it, and had a hard time controlling the rush of emotion that swelled inside him. However, just as quickly as the anger came his sorrow moved to replace it, and the look there upon the broken young man nearly made Will's heart stop.

"James…" He breathed the young man's name, reaching out to take the hand who nearly lost his hold, and pulled him closer, "I didn't want to just leave you."

"Don't William," Jem put up his hand to stop himself from falling right back into those arms, despite how badly he wanted to be reunited with his lover. "You don't have say anything. I know why you did it. I've known for a very long time." He didn't have the heart to tell him that he too was infected, but he felt that Will should know that everything he was doing—he was doing out of love.

"I know you have, but that doesn't make it any easier," Will finally confessed as he pulled Jem down on top of him, and despite how much the infection had stolen from him—how much strength he no longer had it still amazed Jem at how absolute power thrived beneath blue veins. William Herondale's blood was made of fire, and it swelled up red hot in his eyes enough that Jem watched in amazement as the deep blue nearly burned the skin of his sockets. He sat up and put his arms around Jem, keeping him there to straddle his hips, and dared him to refuse him again.

"Take this thing out of my arm," His lips brushed along the pale column of Jem's throat, and he felt the submissive youth come to life beneath invading fingers and teasing kisses. Jem closed his eyes and tightened his hold, knowing full well he couldn't deny William anything.

"You need it," He breathed as he felt the other boy suck on the tender flesh beneath his ear, and caught his bottom lip between his teeth to quell a moan. His fight was for nothing as he found himself on the flat of his back with a single sweep, the rock hard surface of his lover pinning him down and his own body arched to meet him.

"You can put it back in after I am finished with you," Will's voice breathed along the small space between them as he both pinned Jem with his hands and his thighs. "Do not deny me, let me love you." He kissed every bit of skin he could find, and smiled when he felt Jem start to fumble for the IV port. Will made a quick descent upon the youth to undo his belt and free the cock that ached below.

"William wait…I have to put pressure on this, I—" His voice was stolen as he felt Will's hot lips swallow him down, and Jem who had managed to remove the port applied pressure with the cotton bandages was trapped. Somewhere, he knew Will did this on purpose, he couldn't move—he couldn't protest. All he could do was sit there with the boy in his lap with the option of letting go and getting blood all over the sheets or submitting to the pleasure. Though, William didn't take his eye off the hand that he held, Jem still couldn't tell him that it was too late to worry of the infection. How could he? He knew that William would never forgive himself, but the desire to have him fill every empty hole in his body was enough to nearly bring the confession forward.

"Mhm," Jem moaned as he threw his head back and ran fingers through the dark hair of his lover to urge him on. Will groaned at the tug of his ebony strands and only sank faster with a rush of desire to push his lover over the edge. He hallowed his cheeks and enjoyed the way Jem got revenge on his scalp by being trapped and when he felt his pale haired lover his the back of his throat he stopped to hear the sweet song his little bird sang in the heat of pleasure.

"M-Master Caristairs?" A voice from the hall caused Jem to snap from the after effects of his orgasm and push Will off, "I've brought you something to eat, but…sounds as though you are a bit busy? Is everything alright?"

"F-fine, everything is fine. Just um…sit it outside," He wanted to slap that satisfied grin off William's face, but that wolf like smirk was enough to keep him still. "Here." Jem snapped at William and showed him where to apply pressure, "Hold that there." Jem moved to get up but was pulled back down,

"It can wait," Will whispered though sounding much weaker than before, and Jem settled in beside him after taping the cotton over the IV port. "Just stay here with me a while." His skin was so pale that even Jem for once held more color than he, and though he should have gotten back up to start another round of antibiotics Jem found that he couldn't move. He knew that it was a lost cause to treat him now—not without a cure, but if he could get Will to just rest a while maybe tomorrow would be better.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Sure would love it if you guys left a review! Just so I know you are still out there and reading. Believe it or not, this fic is almost done. Shit is about to hit the fan. **

**Also big shout out to my honey Mareike, for pre-reading this for me and offering some feedback. Thanks! Find her on tumblr at: alec-lightwoodsweirdhabbit**

**And find me at: Thou-shall-not-fall **

**Twitter: StarryOwlEyes**


	14. Pompeii

****Big thanks to Alec-Lightwoodsweirdhabit for the offer to review the chapter, but I'm too tired to do anything other than post it. Please ignore any mistake.****

* * *

><p><strong>Tears from the Moon<strong>

**Chapter 13, Pompeii**

_I was left to my own devices_

_Many days fell away with nothing to show_

_And the walls kept tumbling down_

_In the city that we love_

_Great clouds roll over the hills_

_Bringing darkness from above_

_But if you close your eyes,_

_Does it almost feel like_

_Nothing changed at all?_

_And if you close your eyes,_

_Does it almost feel like_

_You've been here before?_

_How am I gonna be an optimist about this?_

_~Pompeii, Bastille_

**"T**ruly, I will be just fine. Go. Enjoy your family, The Professor will be home soon, and I can look after him," Jem spoke to the last remaining member of the staff as the vacant estate welcomed one of the few nights that they were able to take off. Jean-Luc didn't even keep his ghost staff this night and Jem knew that it was a rare occasion. Many times had he wandered down to the kitchens in the midst of the night only to find it fully alive and well. He knew that they hated to leave their post, but it was Christmas Eve and they could they be denied a night with their family.

"And your friend will be just fine?" The maid asked as she lingered in the open doorway and looked up at Will as he smirked down at her like the Cheshire cat from atop the stairs. The lust in his eyes Jem could feel like a ray of sunlight as it warmed his skin, and without even looking back he knew Will was staring right at him—waiting.

"Yes," Jem spoke with a small blush that painted his winter white face and he prayed that the little mousy woman couldn't hear his heart pounding from where she stood, "I trust him. Nothing will happen. I promise you." Reaching out he took the girls small hands into his and squeezed them in hopes that she would understand that he truly would be just fine and to not worry so, but there was an unspoken fear in her eyes as though she knew something he didn't.

"Morning will come, and with it Christmas. We'll all have dinner then?" He heard that Jean-Luc's Christmas lunch was something of a spectacle of his it's own, and the staff were always bragging about how the estate came to life for just one day. Instantly the little last maid's eyes lit up and she gave Jem an excited nod,

"It will then, Young Master. It will! Christmas will come, and you should invite your…" Her blush thickened as well as she looked up at Will, clearly taken with him, "Friend." Will had that sort of affect on people, but never had he imagined that even Jean-Luc's picture perfect staff would be victim to his charm.

Jem gave her his promise that William would be there in the morning and shut the door behind her as she slipped out upon the walk and they were truly alone. The wind cut off from the door and caught Jem's hair in the draft so it fell like a veil around his face. He pressed his back to the door and let go of the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Eyes moved to seek out his lover whose figure at the top of the stairs was like a black shadow and as sinister as a sin. Truly he had found his one true match, the perfect balance between the yin and yang, and Jem couldn't wait to write home to his mother and say just that. However, that day he feared was long from now, and with the rate that the nation was crumbling he worried it would be never.

"So…" Jem started as he bit his lip and looked up at Will through his dark lashes, wondering what it was that came next. He could see the desire even from where he stood, and a large part of him wished that Will would come fuck him right here against this door.

_Nail you right into that wall…_

They weren't there yet, and with Will being so sick he doubted they would ever come to this point. Jem would die a virgin-he was sure of it, but every touch from Will's hand was as sacred as the act and as passionate as any desire.

"What would you like to do now? I-I can show you the library if it would please you?" He asked Will while tucking a few strands of his pale hair behind his ears in an attempt to catch his breath, but when Will stood from his perch and slipped down the stairs like a snake in the shadow Jem could tell that a room full of _books _was far from his mind. He stepped upon the entryway like walking out of a fire and pinned Jem right to the door with a hand on either side of his head. His natural height stole Jem from his stance and caused him to gasp as he was forced to the tips of his toes to be even with Will's body.

"I have something else in mind, James…" Will's lips assailed upon the pale column of his lover's throat causing a low moan to kiss the edges of Jem's tongue, "And we can't do it here."

"Y-you mean the door?" Jem asked nervously as he nearly lost control of his body now that it was flooded with such dominate desire, "Or you mean the Professor's h…home." His eyes were forced closed as Will started to suck on tender flesh and fingers walked over the fabric of his jeans.

"I mean this tomb," Will answered as he flat out lifted the young man so that his legs were forced around his hips and he used the door to help support his weight, "I want to take you out, Princess. Out under the stars and over the streets. My bike is out back and I saw a coat of arms down the hall." Jem wrapped his arms around Will's neck and smirked down to him.

"You want me to wear an 18th century knight's helmet on the back of your deathtrap? Truly?" He had to laugh lightly as Will only smiled, and he knew in that moment that he wouldn't have the desire to say no, "Actually, you should wear it. My knight in shining armor." Will kissed him again and shook his head,

"Not shining armor, Jem. Means it's never been used, and by now I've worn it to many wars." There was a somber truth in what Will said, and the dark shadows beneath his weather worn eyes was proof enough of that. Jem's knight was truly in the frontline and it wasn't just for his life.

* * *

><p>The palace was a stark contrast to the world outside, in the warm winter light it held an elegance that only a history of wealth could provide. Despite all of the heartache and warfare outside the gates, inside was as regal contrast that always reminded the professor of one of the great cathedrals. Jean-Luc knew that his own home could find some of the same comparisons, but there wasn't the history and spiritual solitude that came with something that belonged to Kings.<p>

He could not hold a candle to that of a crowned prince, but somewhere in the midst of England's revival Jean-Luc wondered if he was the last of a dying breed. The dark haired Frenchman lived in the shadows of his forefathers, while carving the paths of the future as his own man. He came from perfectly bred men with more authority in their little finger than that of some countries, and of the sort that could put the very fear of God in the most unholiest of souls. But right now Jean-Luc felt helpless as he stood between the blurred lines of morbid dreamscapes and political warfare.

Outside a revolution was on the rise, while the wealthy dined on expensive wine and careless conversations. They fed their fat lipped faces while outside these walls children starved on streets, born of less than perfect privilege and cast out like stones. However, as he made his way to the rooftop passage the cold air hit him with a new strength and a renewed faith in his salvation.

_The end was coming…_

Truly, this war was just as much his as it was that of the Underground, and right now he was about to apply his Black Knight to the Bishop's King. Finally, it was coming together.

_Checkmate. _

Outside the winter wind swept over the cold plaster of the palace, and he moved carefully over the gravel path that led between the skylights and various vents that were added with each new turn of the century. Here amongst the harsh lines of chimneys and the hazy fog of the fires he could have been mistaken at first for an opera ghost with the way his hair whipped with his cloak on the breeze, and as gloved hands tightened around the ruby tip of his cane he stood waiting like an angel over a tomb.

"I was wondering if you had changed your mind," Came a voice from behind one of the many chimneys, and Jean-Luc turned to find those same cat-like eyes burning out from the other side of the smoke. And the all too familiar feeling of vengeful protection swelled over him like the sea. He and Magnus Bane were cut from the same cloth and it was in moments like this that he got his confirmation.

Jean-Luc couldn't fathom the thought of not knowing the world to which they belonged, and it surprised him that Magnus was ever born outside it. He had known Magnus from the time that he was born, having spent many hours in heated debates with his father, and countless hours trying to win his mother out from under him. Hardly an old man but in Magnus he saw an immortal sense of youth that he had never known. It was not a childish hope of brighter suns and endless stars, but just that ability to truly capture that around him and make it all a game. Never Neverland gave birth to Magnus and like Peter Pan he pulled the children of London from their windows, but this time not to fall to their death but to welcome them home.

"Do you think I would go back on my word, Bane?" Jean-Luc answered with an authority in his voice that had the Underground King straighten his spine and square his shoulders with his feet. Magnus slipped from the shadows to stand before him as his equal, but he could not help the desire to fall to this man's feet.

"I did not, but forgive me, you had me worried with the way you sat at their table." Magnus didn't like the way Jean-Luc had the ability to sail in and out of the political world as easily as he did his classroom, but it was also a small portion of him that was slightly jealous and envious of how he had been able to escape the Underground this long. They both knew that his luck had run out.

"All wolves sleep in the same den, Bane. You should know that by now," He reached out to touch the boy's shoulder seeing the way he still stood so tense and under the warmth of the other man's hands Magnus visibly relaxed. But he still kept leery eyes on the much older Professor.

"So it is to happen then? In the morning?" Magnus asked in a quieter voice as his eyes burned in the coal black reflection of other man's vacant eyes. "I had thought they wouldn't be so willing to upset the balance of their precious savior's birthday." It was Christmas Eve after all, and while the rest of the world was going to bed with dreams of feasts and presents beneath a tree, Magnus and his people were to know suffering.

"You know as well as I do that this country is Godless, especially when it comes to flushing out their waste. They think that you would not expect it, and as brutal as it seems. I was prepared for much worse." Tenderly Jean-Luc ran his fingers back through Magnus' hair to tuck a few strands behind one ear, but it wasn't as a lover would. Magnus felt as though he was simply being tended to by his father, and despite how harsh he pretended to be there was a great part of him that was exhausted enough to want to lean into his touch.

"Flushing out the waste? Did you come up with that all on your own?" Magnus asked him with a bitter sound that tipped closer to a sinister snarl than perhaps should, but Jean-Luc didn't seem phased and responded only with the arch of a dark brow.

"You know what I mean, Bane. Do not test me. We will have much to do this night, and you heard as I did, that we don't have much time. I am ready when you are." Jean-Luc studied Magnus a moment as he saw in the young man's face a mask that from behind it he had to be grinning, and he certainly knew something that he didn't.

"My darling, Professor…" Came the Underground King's voice in a warm purr as he closed the distance between them and slid his hand over the broad shoulder of the much taller Frenchman, "You really take me as a child don't you?" From around the shoulders of the man he walked as though appraising him, and just like that all of the emotion on Jean-Luc's face faded. Seeing this Magnus wanted to crawl back into his shadow and search for any sort of warmth as now the winter's night was much too cold.

"What do you mean?" Jean-Luc, whose bad leg ached and knuckles were white from his too tight grip on the cane, but it was the pain in his chest that he was most aware of. He knew that look. He knew the way that Magnus danced with death as though he welcomed it, and his thoughts traveled to Jem home alone and defenseless.

"I got word of the attack many months ago and though I do appreciate your concern, Master. I would be quick to advise you that I did learn from the best, and in doing so I have the ability to move my pawns a few steps ahead of yours." Magnus, with his back now to the London skyline, and the beautiful Westminster Abbey he grinned as though he were the very devil himself.

"Knight to A8."

Jean-Luc ran his mind over the board of a chess game to know that position belonged to that of the Rook piece, but before he could move to defend the castle an explosion tore through the sky and filled Jean-Luc's eyes with fire.

_"And the walls kept tumbling down_

_In the city that we love_

_Great clouds roll over the hills_

_Bringing darkness from above"_

In ancient Greek times, a whole city fell to the fires of a volcano, and just like Pompeii, London roared with the rattle of an explosion that would wake up an entire nation.

"You fool!" Jean-Luc snapped as he pulled his horrified face from the fire to meet Magnus' sinister grin, "My research-"

"Is safe. You leave tonight with it. It's more important to get it out of this city and onto higher ground," Just like that their roles reversed and Magnus was speaking down to him as though he was simply a subject.

"And don't worry of your little Winter Prince, Professor. He's in good hands." At that they were no longer alone as the streets beneath them came to life with the aftershock of the explosion that would bring nearly all of Westminster to their knees.

* * *

><p>Jem's laughter was as good for the soul as any sermon and it felt like the best sort of homecoming. Will was enchanted by the way his lover had truly let go and with the aid of a few sips of a vodka drink was submerged in the night club like he was swimming at sea. Jem could ted water far better than the rest, but he certainly stood out amongst them. The silver haired youth was certainly just like the moon as he shown over a dark sea, and Will held onto him as though he was the only sense of gravity that could pull him back down.<p>

"Having fun are ya?" His lips whispered along the warm lines of his neck as Will pressed Jem's body back against his own as they danced, and he felt Jem nod despite how all he could see was the dark room before them. His eyesight he knew was failing him, and he knew all he could blame was the infection. Yet, even as he closed his eyes he knew what was going on before him.

"I am! Why have I not been here before?" Jem answered as he turned to face Will, but with just one look upon his lover's face made his heart sink. Will looked horrible, and the moisture collecting at the base of his forehead wasn't from the heat of their dance, "Will?"

"No,"William shook his head and held up his hand refusing to ruin this night, "No Jem…not tonight. Tonight is a special occasion. Tonight marks the anniversary of something amazing, and the new beginning of something even better." He pressed his forehead to Jem's and felt the cool skin of his partner as though he truly was made of the winter. However, Jem shuttered at the heat radiating from his fevered skin and tightened his hold as though somewhere deep down he knew this was where they would say good-bye.

"But you are unwell…I can see it," He started with a small whisper not pulling away, and slowed their dance as though they were the only ones on the floor. "Let's get out of here, and go somewhere just you and I?" With that he pressed a gentle kiss to the burning temple of his blue-eyed boy, and felt him give under the touch. He knew that Will was close to giving up on his suffering, but how far he truly wasn't prepared for.

Will's eyes were closed, and for the first time he saw a vulnerability that wasn't there before. His dark lashes atop his flushed cheeks, lips as pale as any winter rise, and for the first time he was far more delicate than he let on. Will was always so strong—so defiant, and very unwilling to bend. He was the iron fist of the law as well the backhand of the criminal underground, and with a single look he could condemn a soul to hell. He had the sort of power that could rival the gods, and even Jem felt as though he didn't live with Will—he lived in Will's world. The sun and stars all aligned in this man's eyes where as they all were just little specks of light on the horizon. However…right now his lover suffered something that was made of nightmares, and Jem truly didn't know just how this truly was the end. No matter how far they went, or how hard they ran…he couldn't follow.

"I'd like that," Will whispered, his eyes still closed, and despite how the room still somewhere quiet…just you and I. There is going to be a show soon, and I want you to have front row seats.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: OMG DO YOU KNOW WHAT IS NEXT RIGHT!? YOU ARE AWARE IT'S TIME RIGHT!? UGH, I already got a little misty eyed writing this, how in the hell am I going to get through the rest of it?**

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